Dragon's Fate
by PheonRen
Summary: Please read "Oh God, Now What?" first. Years have passed, and what has become of Alistair and Velistara's White Order? Sometimes the humblest of beginnings bring for the sweetest of fruits. Will contain violence, sexual content, adult themes. m/f
1. The Cleaning Man

**Part 1: The Cleaning Man**

Simon was lucky. He was inside one of the most deeply guarded, highly restricted places in the world.

Just about anyone in Ferelden would give up a limb to be right where Simon was- and didn't want to be at all. In fact, he hated it. He hated it so much that he considered quitting for the fortieth time… today.

He sighed and looked at the small, weathered-looking egg lying off to the side in the incubation room. He walked over and patted it again, a daily ritual for him now. He hated the drakes, because his job was so hard. But he felt sorry for this egg. It was unlikely to hatch, so Velistara had pushed it aside.

But it might hatch, so she hadn't had it discarded.

Stained, mottled eggs such as this one could go either way. This one lay on its side in a shadow, and Simon rolled it into a patch of sunlight. He would probably hate this one, too, when it hatched. But while it was a small, defenseless, unwanted egg… it tugged at his heart.

He turned to look back at his full wheelbarrow and sank down beside the egg.

"I'm probably the only person in Ferelden who hates your mother," he told it. "And your dad. And your brothers and sisters."

He knew he shouldn't feel that way. It was entirely unfair. He'd been saved by the pair, quite literally. They'd plucked him from the hillside as an infant. He'd grown up among the servants and elves that lived in the White Fortress.

But he wasn't very grateful to be a drake-shit cleaner. He just wasn't.

It was a living, sure. He was alive, and he even made an excellent wage to compensate for it. He had a formidable savings that he almost never dipped into, with no one to spend it for and little to spend it on.

He wanted to be a Gray Warden. He wanted to leave White Fortress, and be a Gray Warden—not a White Warden. He didn't want anything more to do with drakes or dragons.

He also felt that the White Order was being corrupted. He'd said as much to Velistara once, in a rare moment when she'd drawn him into conversation before he cleaned her toilet. She'd looked at him and seemed to be pondering his words. "I will look into it," was all she had said. At least she hadn't tossed him out, he supposed.

Now he sat beside her egg, feeling sorry for it even though he knew it would soon be making shit for him to shovel, provided it actually hatched.

"I want to be a Gray Warden," he told the solitary egg, discarded as he had been. Then, receiving no answer, he got up and started shoveling more dragon shit out of the most highly guarded room in all the world.


	2. The Elf

**Part 2: The Elf**

Simon finished cleaning out Velistara's toilet room, adjacent to the incubation room for obvious reasons… she was with the eggs often during these final months of incubation, and the toilet room had risen as a simple expedience from that.

So every day, Simon had to go in and clean it, keeping it fresh so that it didn't smell. He also cleaned the drake toiletry near the battlements. He'd already finished that today, though, so he went off down to the kitchens, where he had the standing right to get food whenever he wished.

He also hoped to see Senathin, one of the kitchen elves. He was teaching her to read. If Mathinas, the Commander, were to find out, he would probably lose his job. But Simon persisted, because she wanted to learn to read as much as he had wanted to learn to fight.

He moved down the hallway, still damp from his bath. He reached the kitchen and entered to find her familiar form bent over the fire. Here, in the deepest part of the fortress, no light penetrated from outside, so she was lit by an ephemeral glow that rimmed her in gold.

It was late evening; there would be no more meals, so she was there keeping food warm for him and the few others who could come and go as they wished through the kitchens. Sometimes, he pretended that she did it just for him, but of course, the others had as much right as he did.

He put the book down and she sat beside him. He would eat while she read to him. He'd brought in a history book this time, as it was his intent to teach her other things in the process of teaching her to read.

Maybe someday… perhaps she would feel the same way about him, if he could find enough excuses to be around her.

She smiled and offered him a plate of food when she saw him. She sat down beside him and began to read, sometimes stopping to struggle through sounding out a word here and there:

_"Seventy-five years ago, when the Great White Order was established, it began simply as a new order of Wardens. The Order of White Warriors was added later. Even later came the first ha-ha-hat-ching of the first Offspring._

_"The first hatch-hatch-hatch-lings, hatchlings attempted to blood bond to nearby humans, who refused the bonding, punishing the hatchlings._

_"It was not until the second clu-u-utch that one of the Offspring managed to blood and bond a human. With that bond, the others were allowed to bond as well._

_"The bond increased the intelligence of the drakes, but to this day, all of them have remained only drakes. It is rare for a drake to mature into a dragon, and with clutches as small as Velistara can produce due to Alistair's taint, it remains unlikely that such will ever occur._

_"According to Velistara's teachings, the first dragons laid clutches bordering on the thousands in hopes that enough would survive that one would eventually be found who would evolve into another dragon._

_"The only dragon known to have been hatched and ev-o-lved in this manner was Razikale."_ Simon grinned as she mangled Razikale's name entirely, but didn't comment. She was doing incredibly well, sounding out unfamiliar words and continuing on without the embarrassment she'd expressed in the early months.

She continued reading, and he left some food on his plate—an excuse to remain there. He was allowed to read, so he could just grab the book out of her hands and pretend he was the one reading if need be.

_"There have only been thirty-five hatchlings to date, of whom only eighteen still live…"_

Senathin stopped and looked at him. "Only eighteen?"

"Yes. This book was written three years ago." So it had actually been seventy-eight years now. "But a new batch is ready to hatch. There are four eggs total, but it looks like only three will be viable—that means only three are likely to hatch."

"That's too bad," she said. "Are they all white?"

"None of them are white until they bond," he said. "They're all gray or black at hatching. The gray and black ones will remain mere animals until they're bonded, when they develop greater intelligence. Though nothing like their parents."

She read some more, and Simon simply let her, listening and answering questions to the best of his limited education; an education that had come to an end when Mathinas was made Commander, sadly.

He watched her, appreciating the soft curves of her face. She had come recently to the Fortress. There was a time—before Mathinas—when she would have automatically been enrolled into lessons. But now… well. Now was a different time.

If they were caught at what they were doing, they would be summarily excused from their duties and forcibly escorted out through the labyrinth of caves that led to the Fortress. If they were lucky, they would make it all the way through and be released—but it was more likely that the Standers would simply not want to go that far.

The Standers were Mathinas' personal guard. Apparently, Commander had become a terrifyingly dangerous position, in need of thugs to protect it…


	3. Hatchling Scramble

**Part 3. Hatchling Scramble**

Two more days passed, and Simon continued to teach Senathin how to read. He also snuck out to the back to work against the dummies every night. The drakes ignored him, used to his nightly faux battles to the point where they even slept through it now.

When he was young, Simon had been taken under the wing of one of the eldest of the White Wardens, who had regaled him with tales of Alistair the Gray Warden, Xander the Gray Warden, Duncan the Gray Warden, and others.

Simon had taken his lessons very seriously, the old man teaching him to hold a blade, to fight, how to defend himself with our without a sword and shield, and the various tenants of the Gray Wardens.

He'd been one before becoming a White Warden, he admitted. He'd become a White Warden to be with his wife, a White Warrior. When she died, he just stayed on.

Old Travis had died years ago, but Simon continued to run through his drills faithfully.

Sweating, he stood and let the cold air caress over his sweating skin. He had outgrown Travis' armor years ago, so now all he had was the leather he wore for work. He was a huge man, with powerful, strapping arms and legs.

He doubted there was any armor made that would fit him. There were many jokes around that he was too big to be human, he must be Qunari. Sometimes, Simon thought it might be at least half true.

He didn't feel very human sometimes.

He went to the kitchen, half-hoping that Senathin would be there, but knowing she was asleep in her own bed amongst the other town elf servants. He ate and went to his own small quarters up near the drakes. He cared for them extensively, not only in his toilet-cleaning capacity, so he slept near them—sometimes suffering in the bitterest of the winter months.

They, like their riders, tended to ignore him otherwise. But they were patient and uncomplaining when they required care, so he felt no genuine malice towards them beyond the fact that he had to clean up after them. His protestations of hate were actually limited in honesty to his cleaning duties.

The next day he entered the incubation area, setting the wheelbarrow down and unlatching the door to Velistara's toilet.

"What are you doing in here?" He turned to find one of the new Guardians staring at him with open malice.

"I'm the toilet man." Simon pointed at the shovel and the wheelbarrow. Then when the man's expression changed little, at his dung-coated boots.

"Disgusting." The man turned and walked away, saying over his shoulder, "Hurry it up, shithead."

Simon's hackles rose and he controlled the urge to hit the smug Guardian over the head with his shovel. He finished his work and stopped in at the incubation area to look at the small, discolored egg. It had been rolled into the shade again, and he walked over and heaved it back into the warmth of the setting sun.

"Well, little guy. It won't be long now. I hope you're okay in there." He patted it and smiled.

He barely got out the door when the first of the commotion began. Dropping the handles of the wheelbarrow, he ran out to the courtyard.

"They're hatching!" someone shouted at him as they passed.

Simon sighed. There would be a feast tonight, for sure. He had to go help, since his own work was done. Forgetting the wheelbarrow in his rush, he went to get dressed while the Order of the White Warriors and the guests and protectors of the fortress gathered in the courtyard to fight and scrap over who would be chosen as new White Riders.

Simon, on the other hand, hoped that if he could get there in time, he'd be able to help Senathin. They were alphabetically close, so they often ended up in the work lines together.

Sure enough, he ended up helping her. But because he was not only a big man, but immensely strong, he was often called to bring out large plates such as the roast quarters and the largest of the soup latrines.

He overheard while he was out that the small egg hadn't hatched. He wasn't surprised, but he was saddened by the news. Yet a part of him felt let down-somehow he'd been certain that the small creature inside was still alive.

There had been several people injured in a fight that had broken out over one of the hatchlings, but in the end, the hatchling itself had chosen, as it was supposed to happen. But the incident had cast a pall over the celebration. One of the people involved had been arrested for trying to force the bonding.

It had never happened before.

Simon thought it was surprising it had taken so long. He could rather see Mathinas doing something like that. He quelled his treasonous thought and sank onto the bench at the table in the kitchen.

He was the only one left, having put away the large pots and trenchers, alone among all of them not too exhausted to do it.

"Simon?" He looked up to see Senathin in the doorway. She looked sad.

"What's wrong?"

She smiled. "It's nothing. Just foolishness."

"I'd like to hear it." He wished she would confide in him. That she would let him kiss her. That she would… Well. Enough of that sort of thinking.

She sat down across from him, her face regretful and tired. "I kind of wished that one of them would…" She looked away, her pointed ears reddening. "I wish I could ride one,' she said. "I don't even want to have one of my own, I just want to ride one. To know how it feels."

He put his huge hand on top of her small, delicate one. "I understand." He pulled his hand away, afraid to seem too forward.

"You do? But you hate the drakes and you hate heights!"

He chuckled. "But I want more than anything in the world to be conscripted by the Gray Wardens. You're not the only one who longs for things that you can never have." He meant more than just being a Gray Warden, too.

"Did you hear about the big fight?" she asked him.

"Someone tried to force a bonding. There is no law against it, I understand, but now they intend to consider making one. Right now, he's being charged with cruelty."

They discussed it a bit longer, amazed that such a thing could happen… Simon less so than Senathin.

"Well, good night, Simon." Senathin smothered another yawn.

"Good night, Senathin." He fought the impulse to kiss her as she walked past him towards the door, looking up with a slight smile.

Then he got up and, with a sigh, went off to get the wheelbarrow he'd forgotten earlier in the day. When he arrived, he pushed the door shut, surprised none of the new arrogant Guardians had caught it before he could.

He felt a sudden stabbing pain in his ankle and looked down. The skin was broken just above his shoe, but it was a minor injury, and he decided to leave it until tomorrow. A broken bottle lay beside his foot, the bottom of it sticking up in a jagged, toothy line. If he'd been wearing his boots, he would have never even noticed it.

Shaking his head, he picked it up and threw it into the wheelbarrow.

Turning, he headed off to dump the load of precious dragon dung.

"Simon!" He stopped and looked around. The voice was childish, excited. "Simon! Simon!"

Cold terror ran through him. He could hear the voice, but there was no sound!

"Pip hungry! Pip, Pip, Pip! Pip hungry!" The voice was insistent now. "Simon! Simon feed Pip! Pip hungry!"

He was going crazy!

Something ran into his leg. He looked down. A small bronze-colored drakeling, smaller than any he'd ever seen bumped against his leg again. "Simon feed Pip!"

"Pip?" He felt like an idiot. "Who do you belong to?"

"Simon."

He chuckled. "Yes, I'm Simon. What's your full name, Pip?"

"Pippilinipini. Pip pip." The drakeling curled around his leg. "Simon feed Pip now?"

"Okay. Come on, then. We'll feed you first and then find your rider, okay?"

"Pip hungry. Pip dying." It was plaintive and wailing inside his mind.

Simon picked it up and went into the kitchen, finding some uncooked meat with difficulty. Pip scarfed it down until his little belly protruded. He burped and curled up in Simon's lap.

"So who's your rider, little one?" he asked.

"Simon. Simon is Pip's now." Then he was asleep.

Simon sat and stared at the small creature in his lap and wondered just when he'd lost his mind.


	4. Inquest

**Part 4: Inquest**

"It's here!" someone shouted, jerking Simon out of a deep sleep.

"The shit-man stole it!"

Simon looked around, even as Pip's head also rose with a light sound that echoed his name, "Pip!"

"Wait," Simon objected.

"Tell Velistara and Alistair that he's been found! The shit-man stole him!"

"I did nothing of the kind!" Simon objected.

The same arrogant Guardian who'd stopped him the day before slapped him on the back of the head. "Shut up, Shithead. Let's go."

Pip climbed up Simon's tunic, nails dragging into him, and began hissing and spitting at everyone in the near vicinity, especially the arrogant Guardian.

"He's prevented it from bonding," another voice said.

"Well, at least he hasn't bonded it, himself," someone else interjected.

They shoved Simon out into the courtyard, where Velistara and Alistair were arguing with someone, obviously distressed. They were in human form, and when they saw the crowd coming, with an enraged Pip still snapping at people from Simon's shoulders, they stopped talking and stared.

"What is the meaning of this?" Velistara demanded.

"We found him in the kitchen, My Lady. The last drake did hatch, and he stole it!"

Velistara raised her hand and silenced the group. Alistair stepped forward, scowling, to stand beside her.

"Explain," she told Simon curtly.

"I had to go back and get the wheelbarrow. I left it when the hatching began. I went to help in the kitchens and forgot. I went back late last night to get it, and he was just there. So I fed him, and then I meant to help him find his rider. I fell asleep at the table."

Pip was still snarling and spitting at the Guardian behind him.

"He is not bonded," Velistara said to Alistair, obviously assuming he would be white if he had bonded. "He looks fed and in good health. I do not think any harm has been done here. He has fed him and kept him safe. It is not a crime to fall asleep."

"Come," she said to Pip. Pip turned to look at her and then spat another snarl at the obviously already hated Guardian. He refused to leave Simon's shoulder.

"Pip's mommy. Pip's daddy. Pip's rider." Pip climbed over Simon's head to look at his parents, slipping and sliding on Simon's hair.

"Yes," Velistara told him. "You must pick a rider. Come, there are many to choose from."

"Simon. Pip chose Simon rider. Simon good. Pip carry Simon. Later."

Alistair and Velistara looked at each other. "Did you blood him?" Alistair asked Simon, anger visible in every part of his stance.

Suddenly, Simon found himself angry as well. "I didn't do anything! I fed him and that was it! I took care of him while you let him wander right out of the hatching grounds. You threw his egg into a corner like it was nothing, and you doted on the rest like they were everything. I fed him and brought him inside out of the cold, but you kept putting him into the shadows!"

Both of them were looking at him with equally surprised expressions.

"Pip bit Simon. Pip likes Simon. Simon likes Pip. Simon pats Pip's egg. Simon warms Pip's egg. Simon comes every day, says 'hello' to Pip. Pip searches and searches and searches and finds Simon. Pip bites Simon. Simon Pip's rider forever." Pip laid down across Simon's shoulders and crossed his forelegs, obviously pleased with himself.

"Did he bite you?" Alistair asked him.

Simon shook his head. "No. Despite Pip's claim, he hadn't been bitten."

Pip climbed halfway down Simon's body until Simon picked him up and set him down. "Pip bit Simon." He shoved at Simon's pantleg.

Velistara walked over and pulled it up. There was a pale white mark in the shape of a drake on Simon's ankle.

"He bit you."

"I… I thought it was a piece of glass that I stepped on. I didn't realize…"

"Pip sneaky." Pip's voice was sly, and he curled around Simon's ankles like a feline. "Simon would tell Pip no. So Pip tricks Simon."

"Congratulations, Rider," Alistair told him with a grin.

"What?" The arrogant Guardian stepped forward. "You're letting the shit-man have a dragon?"

Alistair turned to glare at the impertinent man. "Did you just call a valued servant in my household a 'shit-man'? Have you not learned a single thing from being here?"

"Everybody calls him the shit-man," The Guardian protested.

"Well, now they call him 'White Rider', don't they?"

"But he's not even a white drake! And he's a runt!"

"Leave, and don't come back," Velistara told him.

The Guardian pulled his armor off and left it in a heap, staring hatefully at Simon before turning to leave.

"He didn't turn when he bonded you, he has that much right. What are you going to name him?"

"His name is Pippilinipini. 'Pip' for short."

"That's an… interesting… name." Velistara and Alistair exchanged looks and then shrugged.

"Pip hungry. Pip so, so, so hungry."

"Well, come on, then. Let's go find you something to eat." He said it out loud, not wanting to be rude. "With your permission?" It seemed the right thing to say. They waved him away and went back to talking.


	5. The Care and Feeding of Pip

**Part 5: The Care and Feeding of Pip**

Now Simon had a whole new reason to be in the kitchen all the time. But Senathin began to avoided him almost entirely. One day, he asked after her, trying to be fairly nonchalant about it. The head cook told him that Senathin didn't want anything to do with Simon anymore, and that his behavior was beginning to be very creepy.

He left and from then on sent someone else to get Pip's meat like all the other Riders did. He desperately wanted to see her, but he was grievously wounded by the 'creepy' accusation.

For the first few months, he was constantly caring for Pip, without time for anything else. To everyone's surprise, Pip grew quickly, catching up with the other hatchlings quite easily.

Around six months after hatching, Pip began his first molting. It was painful and itchy and he was whiny and out of sorts. Simon was rubbing his scales with a scrub brush to try to help loosen the skin around them so it could be shed, when he was surprised by a voice behind him.

"You really love him, do you not?"

He spun around to find the Lady Velistara standing behind him, her white hair shimmering in the wind.

"Yes, My Lady." He swallowed and turned back. "Since before he hatched, I think."

"He has grown more than expected. In fact, he seems to be growing at an incredible rate." She walked up to pick up another brush and begin scrubbing at his head. Pip rumbled in appreciation and bumped against her skirts. "He likes that a lot. No one has ever thought to help them this way. I think we should make a practice of it when they are molting."

Simon was proud. "They called him a runt, but he's not. I always brushed them. Even before." He turned away from her surprised look. "It helps them, and no one else would do it."

"He is the largest of his group now." She laid the brush down. "But he must grow much more if he is to carry you as the others will." She walked towards the battlements. "If he were a dragon, rather than a drake, I would say that your love for him was making him grow." She transformed and dropped off of the battlement, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts.

"Simon wants Pip to be a dragon?" Pip asked him.

Simon pulled Pip's face towards his. "You are my dearest and best friend. I don't want you to be anything but Pip. You're a drake, and you're my drake, and that's all that matters!"

"Maybe one day, Pip will become a dragon. If Pip becomes a dragon, maybe Senathin will love Simon." Pip rolled over. "Pip's belly itches."

"Now, you listen to me, Pip. I don't want you to be a dragon. Do you understand me? It's not your job to make women fall for me, anyway. That's mine, and I just happened to fail at it. You're a drake. I've already asked, and they'd know if you were to be a dragon. There are indications, and you don't have them. I still love you. Do you hear? You're Pip, and that's enough for me."

"But Pip must be big to carry Simon." Sadness and regret flowed through the young drake, and Simon felt a corresponding sorrow.

"We won't know until you're grown, Pip. Please stop gorging yourself, it won't make you grow any faster."

"Pip is biggest in his group." The drake was smug.

"Yes, but not because you give yourself constant indigestion. It's because you're just growing, that's all."

"Pip will eat more. Pip will be biggest drake ever."

"Fattest, more like it, if you keep taking that approach. Then you'll be too fat to fly, much less carry me."

"Okay, okay. Pip will eat less. Simon pleased?"

Simon couldn't help but grin at the petulant undertones behind Pip's thoughts. "Simon is so pleased, I think I'll even give you a bath. What'cha think of that?"

"Pip loves baths! Oh, here comes Senathin." Pip curled up and pretended to be asleep.

Senathin was the last person Simon had expected to see. But he said nothing as she approached with his meal. He no longer took any of them in the kitchen, instead focusing on the nearly constant care of Pip.

"Thank you for teaching me to read. I'm sorry for the way… I'm sorry."

He looked away from her, scrubbing harder at Pip's shoulder with the scrub brush.

"Thanks for bringing up my lunch," he told her.

"He's getting really big."

"Yeah. But not big enough to ride yet, so you just as well run back to the kitchen until he grows up and I actually have something to offer you again." The words were out before he could stop them.

She gasped and he thought he saw tears come to her eyes before she turned and dashed back towards the door to the stairs. He considered going after her for a moment, but stopped. He wasn't going to follow her and be 'creepy'.

"Simon was unkind."

He didn't need Pip to tell him that.


	6. Training

**Part 6: Training**

"Let's go, Rider." The man at the door wore the armor of a Stander, one of the Commander's elite guards. His tone was unfriendly and curt, and Simon's heart sank.

But when they reached the small dwarven village that had grown up in the entrance to the labyrinth of tunnels that led up to the White Fortress, he forgot every one of his misgivings in the excitement of what was to happen.

He would never be allowed to try to be a Gray Warden, he'd been told some months ago. He could die during the initiation ritual (about which they would tell him no more), and such a risk of a White Rider was simply beyond conscience.

But they hadn't informed him until later that he was to train as a White Warrior. He would be a Rider, but Riders had no fighting training of their own. They learned to ride, but otherwise, they had to learn multiple forms of combat from other schools within the White Order.

And today, he was to be measured for armor! He sat patiently while the dwarven smith growled and snarled and measured him.

"Yer a big un," the gruff little man said. "Gonna be expensive." He looked at the man with Simon, who spread his hands wide.

"He's a White Rider."

The dwarf grunted as if that said everything—and it did—and went back to his calculations. "Going to have to be light, then."

"Yeessss…" drawled the Stander. "His drake was the runt."

"He's no runt anymore!" Simon growled, raising his fists. He'd had this fight multiple times, until most no longer brought it up in his presence.

The Stander stepped toward him. "I'm not scared of you. You may beat up apprentices and initiates, but you're going to learn your place soon enough."

"Git that outta my shop. You fight in 'ere, and I'll beat you both senseless," the dwarf barked.

The Stander bowed to the raging blacksmith and sneered at Simon. "Let's go, Rider." Every time he said it, he managed to make it into an insult.

They returned to the fortress, and Simon turned to go care for Pip, though lately it had become a bit boring. Now he mostly just slept and ate.

"Where do you think you're going? I haven't dismissed you."

He turned to stare at the Stander.

"I'm Darin. You'll call me 'Ser' or 'Ser Darin' until I'm finished turning your sorry, oversized lump of a stupid carcass into a swordsman."

"This should be fun." The voice from behind came from another Stander.

"Give him a sword," Darin told the other man. When Simon had the one-handed longsword in his hand, Darin added, "Well, you'd almost think you know how to use it."

Laughter sounded, and Simon realized with a growing sense of dread that the training area was filling up. Probably because of all the people he'd beaten up for mocking Pip for various reasons. They'd probably come to see him be humiliated this time around.

Well, he would do his best.

"I got 3 silvers to bet on the Rider," someone said. Thus the haggling and gambling began, the man getting multiple takers.

"Making a shit-man into a Rider was a big mistake," 'Ser' Darin told Simon. "I'm going to prove it."

He started swinging and swirling his longsword, circling around Simon, who held an easy, relaxed stance.

Darin dodged in first with a low cut towards Simon's belly. Instead of trying to block it, recognizing the feint for what it was, Simon came in high and hard above the swing, slapping Darin straight across the face with the flat of his blade.

Darin staggered and Simon didn't hesitate. Old Travis had taught him well. Every battle was business. Every opponent had the potential to kill you. Any battle could turn out to be hours long. Conserve strength. Keep your movements spare. Incapacitate or kill without hesitation.

So when Darin staggered, Simon hit his arm with all the strength he had and knocked his longsword right out of his hand, then rapped him sharply on the head with the pommel of his own sword.

Simon wasn't even breathing heavy as Darin collapsed with a clank of plate armor.

"Pay up!" bellowed the '3 silvers' voice, and Simon looked over to find the dwarven blacksmith busy reaping bets. He threw a wink at Simon and kept taking money. Several dwarves were with him, also taking in coins from around them.

Darin shook his head, groaned, and sat up. "You cheating little bastard." He stood up, albeit slowly. Someone cast a heal on him, and he shifted, rolling his shoulders.

"You'll not pull another dirty little trick like that on me," he told Simon.

Simon sighed.

"3 silvers on the Rider!" the smith shouted again, and the betting began again.

It seemed that most were convinced it was a fluke. That Darin had simply underestimated Simon or that Simon had gotten lucky, perhaps.

Darin came in hard this time, swinging viciously. Simon parried the blow easily; it was wide and undisciplined. He slammed his fist into Darin's stomach, well aware that it wouldn't have a huge impact because it was bare fist against metal. What he mostly wanted to accomplish was to drive Darin into a defensive position, though.

When Simon's powerful blow knocked him into a backwards stagger, Darin was already off-balance from a harder parry than he could remember ever having experienced. He immediately saw his danger, and then knew something else fundamental about this encounter: He was in very real danger if the man he faced decided to kill him.

But he rallied and pulled his sword back in front of him in time to barely block a blow that shocked his arm and caused him to stagger backwards again. Pain flared, but he had no time to think on it, as Simon swung again.

The next powerful blow slammed into his sword, making it ring and vibrate. Another mighty blow pushed the sword in towards his body where he couldn't maneuver it.

He forgot about his pride. He forgot about this being 'the shit-man'. He forgot everything except his battle training. He fell into the fight, struggling to keep the sword up and fend off hammering blow after hammering blow.

He pushed forward to try to stop a high blow, and found himself literally pushed across the ground, his feet gouging into hard, frozen ground and leaving a trench in it.

He was the Stander Champion, and there was no way that, in raw combat, he would ever best this man. Angered at the thought, he called up magic and let it roll out from him in a shout.

It should have knocked his opponent down. It should have thrown him and even sent him crashing to the floor. It did to several disgruntled spectators who'd gotten too close.

Yet despite the raw pain that must have been tearing through him, Simon stood facing him still, panting slightly but otherwise unmoved. But foolishly, Darin assumed that he'd at least put the other man on the defensive, and swung in a powerful attack of his own.

Rather than parrying it, Simon brought his fist up and caught Darin's arm on the downstroke with a powerful upward blow. Unmovable fist met breakable bone, and despite the metal armor encasing it, Darin's forearm shattered.

He dropped the sword with a bellow of pain, and then lay gasping in shock as he was bodily picked up by his breastplate and slammed into the ground. Laces on his armor popped and broke from the impact, and he fought to regain his breath.

"Shit-man, shit-man, shit-man!" started to go around the crowd in a low chant.

Then the dwarves took up a different cry, louder than the soft chant going around, "Ri-der! Ri-der! RI-DER!"

The crowd picked up the chant to the last man and woman. "RI-DER! RI-DER! RI-DER!"

Simon turned to look around, surprised at the unexpected turn of the crowd to his favor. He stepped away, looking down at Darin, who sat up, still coughing and wheezing a bit. Simon reached out and offered his hand. To his utter surprise, the other man took it, allow him to help him to his feet.

"Using magic was a dirty trick," Darin admitted.

"Yes." Simon didn't even try to argue.

"What in the Fade is going on here?" Alistair stepped into the crowd.

"Rider Simon is ready for hand-to-hand training," Darin wheezed.

"Really? He just started swordsmanship?"

"No, I don't think so," Darin cradled his arm. "Could I get a heal over here?" He straightened as one washed over him. "He's fully trained in longswords, and probably for years."

He clapped Simon on the back and walked off towards the labyrinth with the smith, who sent Simon another wink before turning to discuss the broken lacings on the Stander's armor.

"Trained in swords already?" Alistair gazed at Simon directly, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Old Travis," Simon said, feeling his face heat under the scrutiny of the human form of the Dragon of Justice.

"Really? No wonder he wouldn't take on another apprentice. We'll test you tomorrow and see if he left any gaps. He insisted on only ever training one apprentice at a time, rather than a class. I used to think it was foolish, but you certainly handed Darin his own arse. When did you get time to practice?"

"At night, my Lord." Simon felt like a child in front of this man, though he looked the same age as Simon himself.

"It's a relief that you won't need nearly as much training as we expected." Alistair turned but then stopped to look back. "Take the day off. Go into Dwarf Town and look around, if you like. I'm sure you could use it after months of drake care."

Simon grinned like a child. "Thank you, My Lord!"

"Alistair!" Came the correction as Alistair bounded up the stairs. "Seventy-eight years and I still can't get used to 'My Lord'!"

Simon trotted off towards Dwarf Town. He went immediately to the Smith, who looked up at him and stopped his work. "Hey, lad. Good show you put on there."

Simon tried to be casual, leaning back against the stone wall. "How did you know?"

"Boy, if I can't recognize a fighter by now, then I need to hang up my hammer and march into the Dead Trenches. You're not just a fighter, you keep yourself honed and sharp. Work it for hours ev'ry day, don'tcha?" He stepped closer, holding out his hand. "I'm Dugan, by the way. Pleased to meet you."

"I"m Simon. Thanks for that."

"My pleasure, White Rider. Made me a pretty bit of coin on those bets."


	7. Looking the Part

**Part 7: Looking the Part**

The armor was done at last, and Simon was sent to pick it up.

He was the first White Rider to wear plate, as it was considered too heavy for a rider. But there was much speculation that he would never be able to ride anyway, so he was given the best protection that White Fortress could afford.

The standard Rider uniform was leather with the White Order's rampant white dragon on it. On each shoulder would be a white drake with wings closed to indicate a drake rather than the wings-spread Dragons.

But Dugan had taken some liberties with Simon's shining plate armor. The rampant dragon on the chestplate was gold rather than white, as white would not have shown.

Rather than the typical shoulder badge of white drakes, an incredible likeness of the copper-colored Pip graced both sides of Simon's helmet and the backs of his gauntlets.

Simon stared at it in awe.

"Let's see it on, boy," Dugan told him.

With Dugan's instruction, Simon was able to buckle and lace the armor, until he stood gleaming.

"That ain't half bad, if'n I do say so myself." Dugan rocked on his heels, grinning at Simon. "Ye look like a hero, lad."

Simon's heart sank.

"What's troubling ya, lad? You don't like it?"

"It's incredible! It's not the armor at all. It's the finest thing I've ever owned!" Simon sank onto the bench nearby. "I always wanted to be a Gray Warden. Like Alistair before he became Justice, or like Xander. I can never even try, though. I'll probably never get to ride Pip because I'm too big. The woman I love won't look at me, come around me, or even acknowledge that I exist. I'm just not good enough for her." Simon covered his face with his hands, nearly jabbing himself in the eye with the helmet.

"I should be happy. I have Pip. I'm not the toilet-man anymore. I now own some of the most beautiful armor I've ever seen—and I never even thought I'd get to wear armor."

"But ye ain't."

Simon shook his head.

"Give it time. Wait and see if you're gonna get to ride him. The rumor mill says he's growing faster than any of the other drakelings. He's certainly not a runt anymore. How can ye be so certain you'll never fly him?"

"I'm scared of heights," Simon told the dwarf. "Even if he could carry me, I'd be petrified. I'd probably puke all over us both."

"Do ye trust him?"

"What? Yeah, of course I do."

"Then I wouldn't worry about that. He'll forgive ye if ya puke a time or two before you get used to it."

"That's comforting." Simon tried to feel the joke, but it came out flat.

"Well, I can only make ya some armor and weapons," Dugan said. "The fear, you're gonna have to figure out on yer own."

"It's amazing armor, Dugan. I expect these pictures of Pip to pop off any second and start demanding a brushing."

Dugan beamed, and Simon found himself grinning in response.

"He's a handsome one, your drake is. Was a pleasure to work on!"

Simon gripped the dwarf's forearm and went on his way. As he walked back towards the fortress, he got open stares from every direction. He grinned and put the helm on. Let them see Dugan's armor in all of its glory!

"Simon!" Darin greeted him as he came back up. "Wow! Dugan sure outdid himself."

"How'd you know it was me?" Simon asked, pulling his helmet off.

"Who else would have a bronze drake on his armor?"

Simon grinned, feeling a bit like a fool. "I guess my anonymity is gone, huh?" Darin's attitude towards him since their fight had changed almost 180 degrees.

"What anonymity? I don't know if you noticed, but you're a good six inches taller than everyone else—minimum."

"There is that," Simon conceded wryly.

"You don't say." Darin was openly grinning now. "Man, that's some incredible looking armor. Makes me want to be a Rider myself. Provided I wouldn't actually have to ride, that is."

At Simon's strange look, Darin clarified. "Scared of heights. Never wanted to be a Rider. Can't stand the very idea, really." He looked wistfully at Simon's armor again. "That armor would make it almost worth it, though. It's quality, not just easy on the eyes.

"More than I could ever afford," he concluded.

They parted then, Darin off to Stander duties, and Simon up to check in on Pip. He had taken his old room back, since no one had moved into the small quarters. They'd once been guard quarters, but no one guarded there anymore, since the drakes were there.


	8. Pip's First Flight

**Part 8: Pip's First Flight**

"It's Pip's turn for training," came a voice from behind him. "Are you ready?"

"I'm a little nervous," he told the senior Rider who had addressed him. "But I'm not really worried."

"He's big, but young. Most aren't that big when they first try to fly. I don't know if it'll work to his advantage or otherwise. I'm Fordir. I'll be helping him strengthen up for long flights, provided he gets the idea today."

"Yes, Ser," Simon replied, swallowing hard. He was terrified that Pip would hop off of the ledge and fall to his death.

"Don't worry, Alistair and Velistara wait to catch any who cannot make it yet." A twinkle in Fordir's eye showed that he understood Simon's fears.

The four drakes lined up on the battlements. Now over a year and a half old, Pip dwarfed his three broodmates, though he remained less than half the size of a full-grown drake.

The battlements were crowded, the first flights always a source of fascination for the people of the White Order. Simon looked up to find Senathin staring at him. He colored and looked away, standing straighter in his gleaming armor and determinedly looking at Pip, embarrassed to have been caught looking at her.

Being 'creepy', no doubt.

Each rider stepped up to the battlement as their drake leaped off and into the air. The first white drake leaped, but tangled a foot with a wing. He arced through the air, but twisted and spread his wings, catching a current and lifting up. A cheer rose, and he flapped heavily and unsteadily back to the battlements.

The next drakeling was determined not to make the same mistake, so she lifted her wings high and leaped. The wind caught them and sheared them back. There was an audible 'snap' and she bellowed in pain.

The great golden dragon caught her, lowering her to the ground, where she was healed. He picked her up and deposited her back on the battlement, swooping back down to wait again.

She walked over, lifted her wings somewhat, bunched up her legs, and lurched awkwardly into the air. She flapped in a fast, tight circle and landed to cheers. Her Rider rushed over to caress her. Simon could almost feel her Rider's fear from where he was. Or maybe he could just relate to it far too well.

"Pip can fly. Easy." It was either reassuring, or really frightening. Pip sounded casually dismissive, as if he'd already been flying all his life.

He stepped up to the battlement and hopped into the air, flapping easily. "Pip was born to fly!" He hovered for a moment, then dropped towards the courtyard, flaring his wings and pulling up, then flapping swiftly towards the sky.

He swooped back up to the top of the fortress, hovering and landing easily. He walked over and laid down by Simon, crossing his forelegs in a pose so like his parents that Simon couldn't help but grin.

There were cheers and congratulations, but Simon was too busy telling Pip that indeed, he was certainly the cleverest, smartest, most capable drake ever—bar none, to register them.


	9. Possibilities

**Part 9: Possibilities**

"Are you Rider Simon?"

His body steaming in the cool morning air, despite it being summer, Simon turned to face the source of the voice. "Yes. How can I help you?"

She was pretty, he noted, though she didn't have the unearthly quality he had always treasured in Senathin.

"Commander Mathinas asked me to inform you that you are late for your duties, Ser."

He really doubted that Mathinas had said it so politely. It was probably more like "You tell him to get his ass down here immediately, before I have him decommissioned and his drake gutted and hung from a spike!"

Simon gritted his teeth and bowed. "Thank you. You may go."

He pulled on a tunic, dumping the rest of the water over Pip to clean the remainder of the soap. Pip protested, wanting him to finish the scrub, but despite the fact that it was almost an hour early, Simon knew arguing the point with Commander Mathinas would simply create a massive problem.

So he donned his armor, surprised when the pretty little servant girl began to help him buckle his armor. She smiled and ducked a bit when he smiled in thanks, and he felt a foolish feeling of excitement run through him. She was just being polite!

And Maker's mercy, the last thing he wanted to do was to be 'creepy' again! He would live with that fear for the rest of his life, despite the fact that Senathin had gotten married and left the White Fortress nearly a year ago.

He walked beside the blond servant girl down to meet an irritable and swearing Mathinas. Simon openly hated the man, but of course, no one could do a thing against him. When Velistara or Alistair were around, he was the epitome of courtesy, urbane consideration, and even polite tolerance.

But when they weren't around, he was a brutal taskmaster. The few times people had spoken up against him, they had regretted it, and the fact was well known. Simon himself kept his mouth shut because a drakeling of Pip's brood had had an "accident" and fallen from the battlements during the night some six months ago, inexplicably cutting himself open on the way down.

His rider had been devastated, and still had not recovered. The incident had been one of the things that prompted Simon to move back into his "guard" room up there yet again despite the previous cold winter, though he never said as much. It wasn't so bad, once he wised up and bought a brazier for himself.

The threat to drake or family was obviously very real if someone crossed Mathinas. The whole atmosphere of the fortress had changed over the last few years, and Simon knew it was entirely because of Mathinas.

So he stood in stoic silence as he was berated and threatened for 'being late' for his shift that still didn't start for over a half hour. He was given the worst possible jobs as usual, Mathinas having never bothered to even slightly hide his open hatred of 'the stupid, worthless shit-man.'

When he was done, and Mathinas had dismissed him, it was late at night. He went wearily to the kitchens, eating almost in a blur. Mathinas tried to keep him too busy to work out at night, but Simon made a point to do it anyway.

But it was beginning to take its toll.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He looked up to see the delicate blond servant girl again. When he blinked blearily at her, she said, "I'm Corinne. I came up to get you this morning, remember? Would you like some water?"

"Oh, sure, thanks." Wow, he was suave.

She put the cup down in front of him, and he drank gratefully.

"Maybe I could come up and see your drake sometime," she asked, rolling a lock of blond hair around in her fingers.

He thought about it for a moment, but couldn't find anything wrong with the idea. "Sure," he said. "I'm sure he'd like some company."

"What about you? Would you like some company?"

He was tired, that was true. But he still swore that sounded like a rather…forward… sort of invitation.

"I should go get some sleep," he told her, wanting to kick himself for his inanity. He didn't know what to make of her or how to react. He practically ran out the door.

But all the way up the stairs, he kept thinking about whether or not that was the invitation it really, really sounded like.


	10. Whine, Women, and Whatnot

**Part 10: Whine, Women, and Whatnot**

He woke up sweating in the cool room. The remnants of his dream lay around him like delicate shards of glass, cutting into his heart as he tried to step around them. Memories of Senathin were put to shame by the emotions he experienced when he thought of the woman in his latest dreams. She had come to him at the same time as Corinne—almost as if to keep him from the blond servant. It had been effective, despite Corinne's best efforts to seduce him.

He didn't know her name. He couldn't speak with her in the dreams, he could only watch her as if through a scrying glass. She was one of the White Mages, he'd realized—well, she wasn't real, of course, but if she were, she would be a White Mage—and she seemed to be coming to the same conclusions about Mathinas as Simon had.

Last night's dream had been strange, though. She'd been talking to one of the Guardians. The Guardians protected and sheltered the Mages, and the incubation grounds. They were trained like Templars, but without the same vows. It wasn't forbidden for them to marry the White Mages, though fraternization without marriage was forbidden to protect people from having to give up children.

Her discussion with the Guardian in question had gone predictably badly… what she didn't know, but Simon did, was that he was one of Mathinas' lackeys. Whether willingly or under coercion, Simon wasn't 100% sure, but he had a good assumption that it was by choice.

Guardian Coros had tried to coerce her into sex with him. She had refused, and he'd slapped her around. She had continued to refuse, and then had screamed. When the other Guardians came, Coros claimed she had disobeyed and was trying to turn it around on him. She hadn't told the truth of what he'd tried to begin with, but Simon had wanted her to.

Now, though, he sat on the side of his bed, head in his hands, fingers running through his blond hair.

"Simon?" Pip sounded like he had when they'd first been bonded—young and unsure.

"I'm okay, Pip. Bad dream."

"Simon not dreaming. Something else. Pip worries and worries and calls Simon. Simon away from Pip. Simon opens door?"

So Simon opened the door and hugged the neck of his drake, shivering in the bitter winter chill. Even he wasn't totally impervious to it, though he handled it far better than anyone else he knew.

Pip snorted and withdrew. Simon hopped back into his room, slamming the door and huddling at the brazier, pulling a blanket over his shoulders to keep the heat in.

Simon grinned then. Pip had begun a nonstop litany of complaints… Corinne had come to see him again—Pip absolutely hated Corinne. The straw poked him, he wanted the wool back—wool was too expensive this year, since there'd been a blight that killed too many sheep. Simon should always wake up when Pip called. Pip was tired and Pip wanted to fly but they were too busy measuring him and poking him all the time and when was Pip going to be all grown up and when was Pip going to get to carry Simon and why was Pip the only male drake who wanted to mate and why were female drakes so stupid and would Simon please stop thinking sexual thoughts in his dreams because they made Pip want to mount the stupid drakes anyway.

Simon fell asleep to Pip's nonstop stream of complaints, surprised at the unusual behavior.

The next day, he went to talk to Fordir.

"He's feeling rutty, huh?"

"And irritable."

"What about you? Are you feeling rutty? Irritable?"

Simon felt his face turn several shades of red, growing in intensity as Fordir laughed and said, "Don't worry, boy. It's not that unusual. They feel what you feel. The drake is often a reflection of the rider, and no offense, but you've got enough testosterone for ten men. I'm surprised it took him this long to start feeling it. You meet someone lately?"

Simon shook his head. "Not exactly. Been having some dreams, though."

"Well, when you settle down, so will he. Don't sweat it." Fordir clapped him on the back. "Now, they've nearly finished Pippilinipini's harness. Maybe you should go up today and watch them put the final enchantments on it. Getting a little excited about something besides sex might make you both less punchy. You'll be taking your first ride tomorrow."

"What? Really?" Simon couldn't believe it. "So soon?" He blurted it before he realized he was speaking.

Fordir's brow furrowed. "You don't think he's ready? He's certainly big enough. He's the biggest of the drakes by almost four hands."

"No, no. I'm sure he's ready."

"But you're not," Fordir guessed. When Simon looked away and up at the battlements, Fordir chuckled. "I was afraid of heights, too. It all goes away fast, though, when you experience your first few flights."

Simon thanked him, though privately he believed he was totally wrong. But he could hope, he supposed.

Then he went upstairs and saw Pip getting harnessed. It was the first time he'd seen Pip in full daylight in many months. He'd been kept working from before sunup, to long after sundown.

Over time, Pip's coloring had altered slightly. It was no longer bronze, but was the same color as the burnished copper inlays in Simon's armor. He shimmered and sparkled and glittered in the brilliant light of the sun, and Simon's breath was taken away by the sight.

"Pip's harness done soon! Pip carries Simon tomorrow!"

"Pip," Simon thought to his drake, "you're beautiful!"

"Pip knows. Pip shinier than the white ones."

Simon laughed at Pip's matter-of-fact tone and walked closer to him. He was surrounded by people, and was being very still except for his swinging head. "Pip's harness almost done" he repeated.

"Well, let's get you up on him before we consider it finished," the leatherworker said.

Simon took a deep breath and stepped up to Pip. Putting his foot into the covered stirrup, he took a deep breath. Then he vaulted up and onto Pip's back. Pip let out a satisfied rumble, his wings flaring and nearly knocking nearby people over.

"Be still," the leatherworker snapped at him, and he subsided with a mild "pip!" The leatherworker looked over the straps, pulling and tugging. Then he said. "It's ready. Your turn." He waved at a Mage standing nearby.

A slender woman stepped forward, and Simon knew this was the White Mage who would weave protective spells into the harness that would help improve his grip and his seating. She pulled the hood of her robe—red, not white as Simon would have expected—back.

Simon stared, open-mouthed. It was her!

"Hi," she greeted him with a slightly knowing smile. He clapped his mouth shut. "I'm Blake. Nothing I'm about to do will hurt you, and certainly not Pip."

Simon's eyes took in the bruise on her cheek from where Coros had hit her, and his hands tightened around Pip's ridge. At the surge of violent rage in his rider, Pip reared and a bellow of shock escaped him. His head snaked back and forth, his eyes reeling with intensity and searching for danger. The crowd scrambled away in surprised fear, and Simon was forced to sooth his restless drake with assurances that nothing was wrong… a difficult task when his own emotions were boiling at the thought that what he'd seen hadn't been a dream at all and Coros had really struck this woman.

Finally, though, he managed to calm poor Pip. Pip submitted grudgingly at first, but as Simon fought not to be a creepy guy and stare openly at the breathtaking Blake, he began to become agitated rather than infuriated.

Blake's eyes were closed, and she was casting, her soft voice a rolling, musical chant. It was intoxicating, and Simon could barely focus. Then she stopped, and her vibrant eyes met his. He thought they were purple, but of course, that was silly. He was the only person with purple eyes. It was the other reason they claimed he was part Qunari.

She bowed and then turned to go. Simon realized that she was being escorted by a Guardian.

"COROS!" Simon roared, leaping from Pip's back and stalking across the battlements. Behind him, Pip roared, his spines raising and sticking out, a display of threat and fury.

Both men had swords in their hands before Simon even realized it.

"No fighting!" Fordir snapped. "Simon!"

Fordir grabbed Simon's arm, turning him to look at Pip. Seeing Pip's agitated state, Simon fought for self-control.

He looked back at Coros. "This isn't over."

"What's your fucking problem, Rider?" Coros spat.

"You like to beat women? You like to force yourself on women? Let's see you try it with somebody your own size." Simon was vibrating with uncontrolled rage.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Guardian sneered.

Simon walked over to Blake, who was staring at him with mingled surprise and… something else. "I think you do," Simon said as he touched the bruise on her cheek gently. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "He'll pay for that, if it's the last thing I do."

Then he turned around and went back to Pip, ignoring everything and trying desperately to sooth Pip out of his own growing fighting frenzy.

"Crazy shit-man," Coros muttered as he followed Blake back into the fortress towards the White Mage wing.

Simon didn't miss it.


	11. Simon Falls

**Part 11: Simon Falls**

The next morning was to be their first flight together. Simon tried to get excited, but his fear just continued to grow. Pip didn't notice, his own excitement and hope completely drowning out all of Simon's fear.

Simon climbed on, surprised at how comfortable it felt to be there. He also felt better this time, wearing full plate and with both sword and shield strapped on. They wanted Pip to feel the full expected weight, and to see how he handled it.

So Simon was sitting on Pip, filled with dread. People bustled around, while Pip strutted. He was the last to carry his rider, and he was eager to get on with it.

Simon looked down to find Blake standing nearby. A different Guardian stood beside her, gleaming gold in the morning sun.

"I'm to be Pip's mage," she told him. "Good luck up there."

He had no time to ponder on what it meant to be "Pip's mage." Fordir stepped up to Pip and asked Simon, "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess."

"Go, Pip." Fordir slapped the copper drake on the rump, and Pip stepped up on the edge of the battlements.

Simon closed his eyes.

Pip took a deep breath, and Simon braced himself. But rather than leaping off immediately, Pip let out his breath in a powerful, brass roar.

Two deep bellows answered him from below, and then Pip leaped. "Pip's parents are proud. Pip's parents watch."

Simon felt rushing air. He bobbed weirdly in the air, and he felt the world falling away. The sounds of Pip's wings beside him soothed him, and he finally opened his eyes. Pip powered up towards the sky, wings striving to lift them faster and faster.

Simon had never felt anything like it in his life. It was as if Simon blended with Pip and the pair of them were united. He felt Pip's power as if it were his own. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride.

Pip winged over the mountains and fled across a blur of landscape. Simon couldn't believe it. He felt no fear at all, only an ever increasing sense of triumph and joy. Pip roared again, then turned. Simon leaned into the turn, finding himself instinctively responding to the movements and shifts of the great drake beneath him.

"Pip's mother says to return. Pip does not want to go. Pip wants to fly. Pip is strong, Simon is not heavy. Pip is a real drake now."

"We should go back. It wouldn't do to disobey on our first flight," Simon replied. He still couldn't believe it was this awesome. He couldn't believe he wasn't terrified.

Pip, his pervading emotion a mutinous displeasure, turned and flew back, much more slowly than he'd flown out. He soared, looking at the ground beneath them, watching people and animals scurrying about in their daily lives.

A strange sense of pervasive contentment fell over them, displacing everything else. This suddenly felt more real to Simon than any other part of life. As if he were waking from a dream to find that his real life was the open sky and the freedom of a drake's flight.

All too soon, though, the fortress came into sight, slowly growing in his vision from a tiny toy to the battlements he knew so well, and had never really loved.

As if equally reticent to give up the moment, Pip hovered, his wings stroking as he slowly lowered himself into an elegant, practiced landing that didn't jar Simon in the least.

Reluctantly, Simon slid down and wrapped his arms around Pip's neck.

"Simon rides well." Pip's eyes whirled with pride.

"Pip is the best flyer in the world," Simon responded, letting all of his pride, contentment, and pleasure leak through into his thought.

"That was an incredible flight," Fordir said. "Best first flight I've ever seen. Ever. And he's not even winded. He could do that again and not even feel it. Incredible."

Simon felt the prickle of magic on his skin, then heard Blake's lovely, lyrical voice. "They show no signs whatsoever of strain. I think they could safely handle several hours of flight already."

"No sign of flame?" It was Fordir's voice.

"None, Ser. His flame sacs appear unlikely to develop, they are still unopened and in a juvenile state."

"What?" Simon turned to look at her. He could barely focus on what they were talking about, looking into her eyes which were, indeed, purple like his own. "What are you talking about?" He looked at Fordir then, including him in the question.

Before Fordir could reply, Alistair landed and shifted to human form. No sooner had he done so, than his wife landed virtually on top of him and also shifted.

"Well?" Alistair demanded.

"The flight was incredible, My Lord! Pip is strong and Simon adjusted well."

"But?" His eyebrow rose at the tone of Fordir's voice.

"But it is as you suspected. There is no sign that Pip will ever breathe flame." Fordir noticeably refused to look at Simon when he said it.

Alistair sighed. "What a shame. One of our strongest drakes and best Riders, too."

Velistara shook her head. "Do not write them off yet. He may yet develop. It is never too late until their lives are ended."

Simon felt a strange fear building up in him. "Why is it a shame? We did well. We flew together!"

"Simon." Velistara was looking at him with undisguised pity. Shame ran through him, and he didn't know why. "You cannot be a proper fighting pair without flame breath. If he cannot flame his enemies, he can do little in real battles."

"Rescues, perhaps!" Fordir tried to soften the blow.

Simon turned away, trying to fight his feeling of dawning horror. His eyes met Blake's, and he saw that she was looking at him assessingly, without the pity the rest were trying in varying degrees to disguise.

He looked away, his eyes lighting on Pip. Poor Pip, so eager to be a proper drake. Poor Pip, who never would be.

Pip looked at him. To his surprise, he saw reflected there the same look as in Blake's eyes.

"Pip is not upset. Pip carried Simon. Pip is sad he cannot make Simon happy with fire."

"No, Pip! It's not that. I don't want you to be anything different. I love you, you're my friend." Simon tried to explain, but his feelings were too confused.

"Simon," Alistair said. "Go fly. You'll start regular sentinel duties tomorrow."

Simon nodded and climbed onto Pip again. He turned to see Blake watching once more. He turned away, ashamed. Pip didn't bother to walk up to the battlements this time, just leaped into the air and winged away.

Soon, Simon was able to let go of his hurt for a while. He loved flying as he'd never loved anything before, even Senathin.


	12. Don't Look Now

_contains explicit sexuality/voyeurism. You have been warned.

* * *

_

**Part 12: Don't Look Now**

Simon was dreaming again. Lately, he always knew when he was dreaming. He watched Blake again, of course, almost as if he were looking into a scrying glass yet again. He was instantly uncomfortable, though.

She was in the baths, and Simon couldn't escape watching her. He couldn't control the dream well enough to escape it.

As he watched, she dropped the robe she'd been wearing, this time a blue one. It flowed down her body to the floor. He would have gasped, if he'd been able to. Instead, he could only continue to watch as she removed her smallclothes, and he saw a woman's body for the first time in his life that he could remember.

Her breasts were much rounder and larger than they usually appeared, and he recognized from simple mechanics that she had somehow been making them look smaller by binding them with her smallclothes. He could tell because when she released them, they bounced and rippled and seemed to almost expand.

If he'd had a body (and he wondered again where it went while he had these dreams), he'd have had quite the reaction. As it was, he felt the arousal stir through him anyway.

Then she turned and slipped into the tub when her clothes were all gone, and he caught sight of reddish curls between her legs. She sank into the tub and sighed. He watched her as she picked up a sponge and began to wash herself, her movements no doubt innocent, but immensely attractive to Simon regardless.

Some time later, she ducked beneath the water, rising from it with her hair plastered back and water siphoning off of her in rivulets. It was the most beautiful, breathtaking sight Simon had ever seen. Sadly, he had no breath in this dream to catch, but regardless…

When she was finished, he continued to watch involuntarily as she began to touch herself in quite a different way. Her hands spread across her body, and he watched in utter fascination as she touched her breast, her hand curling around and plucking at the rosy nipple.

Maker forgive him, but he felt as if he wanted to leap into the room right then and there and be just as much of a beast as Coros.

Her hand moved lower, and she began to buck in the water. Simon continued to watch, still wishing the dream would end, feeling every bit as 'creepy' as he'd been accused of being. Yet he watched as she pleasured herself, unable to look away—for multiple reasons.

Then, he realized she was speaking. She moaned, speaking again. That time, he thought he could make it out, but his mind rejected the idea. It only sounded like…

His name whispered from her lips again, a sighing, throaty sound. "Simon!"

He was jerked awake by the intensity of the feelings that raged through him. He sat up in his bed, then groaned in his own turn… He lifted the blanket to find that he had, indeed, cum on himself in his sleep like an adolescent.

"Ugh." He cleaned it up, tossing the soiled sheets into a corner and remaking the bed hastily. He would deal with them in the morning, though the thought went against the grain. He was a very tidy person, and hated the thought of them lying there the rest of the night drying out.

But he was still exhausted, and he couldn't take his first Sentinel flight too tired to see danger.

Not that it mattered. Simon remained convinced that the danger was already inside the fortress, masquerading as the Commander.

He laid back down and felt like his head was going to explode. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. He hadn't done it on purpose, but he still felt ashamed and shocked. He had just watched a woman bathe. And pleasure herself.

"Pip is tired," came Pip's voice in his head. "Pip worries every time Simon goes away."

"I've never gone away," he told the sleepy drake.

"Simon went away again tonight. Simon was very rutty." Pip had fallen in love with that word when Fordir had said it, and now Simon heard it more often than he ever hoped to hear any word in his life.

"Ugh! Leave me alone! You're like a little kid sometimes!"

"Pip is considering rutting a female drake, if Simon does not find a female to rut."

"Oh please. You're as likely to rut a drake as I am to ever get to rut Blake."

"Pip would rut Blake if Pip was a human. Pip likes Blake."

"That's not right. Somehow, it's just not right. Don't say that kind of shit to me."

"Pip would not rut Corinne. Pip does not like Corinne." Simon chuckled at Pip's adamant assertion.

"Don't worry, Corinne wouldn't let you rut her anyway. You're a drake." But Pip was asleep and didn't respond to his joke.


	13. Insidious Offerings

**Part 13: Insidious Offerings**

The next day, Simon and Pip rode their first Sentinel flight. Pip's keen eyesight watched the ground for intruders, and the pair also took the opportunity to simply enjoy the joy of flying. The enchantments Blake had put on the harness made it possible for Simon to breathe even when Pip went high, his own lungs easily able to gather all the oxygen he needed from the thin air.

They glided in some hours later, landing on the battlements amid an unusual disturbance.

"Simon!" Blake's voice greeted him. "Be still!" Her voice was demanding, and Simon stilled instantly. "Let me look at you."

"They're okay," she called out to Fordir.

"Of course we're okay. Why wouldn't we be?"

"One of the drakes has died," she told him. "She was poisoned." Her eyes bored straight into his, as if she were trying to tell him something.

"Who was it?" His heart plunged again. The death of a drake was a terrible, staggering loss. They were so few and precious.

"Genivara," Blake answered, her eyes expressing infinite sadness.

Pip's head jerked and he looked at Blake. "Genivara?" Pip's thoughts were filled with intense alarm.

"Pip? What's wrong?"

"This is Pip's fault! Pip killed Genivara!"

"What?" Simon actually yelled it out loud.

"Pip never eats Corinne food. Corinne always brings Pip food. Genivara eats Corinne food so Pip does not have to eat it. Pip killed Genivara!"

"What? What are you saying?"

"Pip did not tell Genivara. Pip dropped poison food into the trash heap so Genivara would not eat it. Pip thinks Genivara reached in and took it, anyway." With every word, Pip's head had fallen. His spines were clenched against him in abject misery and horror.

"What?" Fordir asked Simon.

Simon raced across the fortress roof to the gates that enclosed the trash heap. He opened the door and saw four dead crows—and no pile of meat.

"Where's Corinne?" He shouted it. "Find her! Find her right now!"

He raced for the doorway to the stairs, bounding down them at tremendous speed. He raced for the kitchens, pushing people aside without even apologizing. "Corinne? WHERE IS SHE?" He bellowed it, fury shining through his eyes.

"She's gone, Ser," the diffident, terrified elven cook said, cowering away from him into the corner.

"When? How? WHERE DID SHE GO?"

"Ser, I don't know! She didn't show up this morning, and her things are gone from her room!"

Slamming the door, Simon ran back up the stairs. Not stopping, he raced across the battlements and leaped onto Pip's back. "I'll be back!" he shouted by way of explanation, then commanded Pip to fly.

Shocked at the unexpected behavior of his rider, Pip turned and leaped. Simon gave him a mental image of the outlet of the caverns, and they flew that way. Simon's urgency and sense of demand telegraphed itself to Pip and the great drake pushed hard and fast towards the exit of the labyrinth.

They landed, and Simon sent Pip up to hide above on the mountainside. If Corinne came that way, he didn't want her to be warned off, and he didn't want her to know she had failed. Rage boiled through his blood as he settled in to wait.

Some twenty-five minutes later, Fordir landed and sent his drake up to squat above beside Pip, who was lying, dejected and regretful, in the bright sun.

"Darkspawn take it, that beast of yours flies faster than anything I've ever seen except Velistara and Alistair. Care to tell me what's going on?"

"That poison was meant for Pip. Corinne's been bringing him food all along, but he doesn't like her, so he won't eat it when she brings it. He didn't bother to tell me this, but it would seem that last night, it was poisoned. Genivara usually ate the meat that Pip wouldn't eat, so he threw it into the trash heap so she wouldn't. It would seem that she climbed in and ate it anyway."

Fordir gave a long, low whistle. "Now you're waiting for her to come out."

"It's the only way out. She left during the night, so she should be coming out sometime later today, if she really hurries."

"Alright. We'll send someone in, in case she's smart and camps out in there."

Simon nodded. "Pip thinks it's all his fault."

"He should have told you, but he's a drake, and they don't really think the same way we do. I doubt it ever occurred to him that she did it on purpose. Regardless, the greater question here is why she would try to kill him."

Simon shook his head. "I don't know. There's no logic to it. He can't even flame, he'll never be a battle-drake like the rest of them. He can fly, sure enough, but we all know that's no real help."

"Don't spit on reconnaissance, Simon. Entire wars have been won—and lost—based solely on the quality of it. As high as he can go and still see, they'll never even know he's there."

Simon gave him a dry look, and Fordir shrugged. "Not much of a tactician, are you?"

"I always dreamed of being a Gray Warden. I wanted to fight. To really make a difference, not spy on people." The reference made his face turn red as he remembered his dream the night before.

"You'll make a place for yourselves. Look where you came from and how far you've come together. He was going to be the runt. He would never carry you. And here you both are. So don't give up too soon."

Simon sighed. "I probably shouldn't even be the one to be here. I really want to kill her. I want to tear her limb from limb. And to think I almost…" He trailed off, his face turning red again.

"But you didn't. She failed to seduce you, and she failed to kill your drake."

"Yet she succeeded in killing one of them."

"Yes." He sighed heavily and changed the subject slightly. "Sarin is with the mages now. They'll care for her and keep her in the Fade much of the time. They'll be together there. It's the only way to keep Riders sane once they lose their mounts." Fordir's voice was filled with heavy sorrow, a deep regret, and something else.

"You fear that."

Fordir looked away. "It's a half-life. I… any Rider who doesn't fear it doesn't get it." He leaned back. "I'll send another rider to wait with you. I agree that it might not be best to leave you here to take her on alone. Who knows what backup she might have. We can make no assumptions, since we don't know her motives." He left, his drake turning to look at Simon for a long moment before launching into the air.


	14. First Contact

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**Part 14: First Contact**

Weeks passed, and Corinne wasn't found. Simon went back to his duties, but the exit of the caverns was not left unguarded. A new barracks was even put in, with Alistair saying that perhaps it should be protected—both directions—regardless of Corinne herself.

So a small barracks was carved out by the dwarves, and guards were stationed there now as a matter of course. It was small comfort, but it was something. And it was at least the issue was being taken seriously.

Simon and Pip made a point to sweep past it on every watch. He would stop in and ask daily whether she had been caught. He also took them pastries. It became a sort of ritual for them, and for him.

It broke the monotony, and helped settle his growing discomfort with the lack of progress in figuring out why someone wanted to kill Pip.

To the great dismay of the leatherworkers, Pip had continued to grow, as well. They'd had to resize the harness twice, and the leatherworker had looked at Simon as if he were directly at fault for it.

But up here, in the sky, Simon found that none of it could bother him. He was freer here than he'd ever been in his entire life. Freedom like this wasn't something to brood through, so he enjoyed it and let go of worry as he rode.

"Pip sees fighting. Pip sees people in danger."

"Take us down," Simon told him.

Pip tucked into a dive, and they plummeted, pulling up and winging into a clearing. Simon was off of Pip's back before he even landed. He found himself staring into the face of the most hideous thing he'd ever seen. It made a strange laughing sound, 'Hur hur hur' and shuffled towards him.

Behind him, Simon heard the sound of Pip snarling. He prayed to the Maker that Pip could take care of himself, and waded into the monster in front of him. Beyond them, he could see a terrified family barricaded under a heavy wagon.

They fought for a few moments, until there were no more of the horrid creatures. Just as Simon turned towards the family to tell them that Pip wouldn't hurt them, more appeared, popping through holes in the ground.

Simon found himself surrounded by three of them, and Pip being overwhelmed by two, who had managed to clamber around his snapping jaw and wicked claws. Moving closer so he was in range, Simon let out a powerful shout, imbuing it with a magical compulsion to attack him instead.

He found himself mobbed. Pip's claws and teeth snapped, but Simon took the brunt of their attack. He dodged and parried, using his shield to fend off the majority of the damage. He tucked it in close and hoped that the vicious attacks from Pip would finish them off before they overwhelmed him.

One of them managed to get behind him, and he spun, using his shield as a battering ram to knock the monster down. He repositioned himself so that when it stood, it was in front again. Three died, and three remained. The one he was hacking at was failing more and more to block his powerful blows, and would die soon.

Then he felt a horrible pain in his back… followed by numbness. He slumped to the ground, falling backwards with his legs crumpled oddly beneath him, not able to feel a thing… until agony flared in his chest as the creature that felled him stabbed him there.

It went flying, the sword wrenching free as Pip leaped on it, tearing its head straight off and throwing it aside with a roar.

Pip turned, and looked for more, but all of them now lay dead, Pip and Simon having finished them off.

"Come, Pip carries Simon home for healing."

"Can't move, Pip. Gotta get help and bring them here. If you move me, I'll die. I think I'm paralyzed."

"Pip gets help! Pip saves Simon!" Simon's mind heard the words as it descended into the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness.


	15. Pip Speaks

**Part 15: Pip Speaks**

Blake was sitting in a meeting. It had been called to discuss the state of the White Mage School. The Circle of Magi and the Chantry had become more and more disgruntled with the Order of White Mages, and they wanted to have phylacteries for all Mages, not just their own.

Alistair and Velistara were there, and arguing yet again that the Order of White Mages was in no way related to the Chantry, and refused to be overseen by them. The Circle of Magi continued to be furious that mage children were being brought to the White Order more and more now rather than the Circle of Magi.

Trying to explain to them that their treatment of these children made parents prefer never to give them over to the Circle of Magi if they could help it was met with rigid fury and denials.

The representative was just getting wound up again, ready to deliver yet another tirade when it happened.

"BLAKE!" The voice was in her head. The telepathy was so powerful that it made her go rigid and clap her hands against her head.

"Blake! Blake meets Pip! Blake meets Pip and saves Simon!"

She looked around, noting that people were staring at her in consternation. "Do you hear that?"

"Blake hurries!"

She went rigid again. "Fade take it, that hurts!" she yelled.

"Hurry! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Blake hurries to the battlements and meets Pip! Blake saves Simon!"

Alistair and Velistara looked at each other and then Alistair got up and shuffled Blake out of the room. "What's going on?"

"The voice! I—"

"Simon needs Blake! Blake hurries, hurries, _hurries!_"

"I think it's Pip?" It came out as a question, as if she expected him to be able to confirm the voice inside her head.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "You think what is Pip?"

"The voice. I think it's Pip! He wants me to go up to the roof."

Alistair opened the door. "Veli, please come with us. The rest of you stay."

"NOW! Blake runs _now!_" The shout made her grab her head again and dodge for the stairs. She rushed up them as fast as she could go, picking up her robe's skirts and rushing.

She reached the roof and saw Pip fast approaching from the South. He went from a blur to a fully formed drake faster than she'd ever imagined possible.

"Blake comes with Pip. Blake mounts now!"

"What?" she cried out loud. "No!" She was so terrified of heights that even being up there was hard. She never, ever, ever went anywhere near the edge. She came up here only to care for Pip, and that was it.

"Blake mounts Pip!" He sounded desperate. "Blake saves Simon! Blake comes now, please! Please!"

"I can't!" she wailed. "I can't! I can't fly! I just can't!"

"Blake mounts NOW!" Pip practically screamed into her mind, the last word accompanied by a roar so powerful that the ground shook around her and her hair blew straight back.

She trembled and tried to obey. But the very idea paralyzed her with abject terror.

"You're no son of mine!" Alistair shouted, his voice filled with rage. "How dare you treat someone like this?"

Every spike on Pip's body stood up; a masculine, deadly display of absolute rage and threat. His head snaked around and this time, he made sure that everyone could hear him.

"No, Pip is no son of yours. Pip is the ugly, unwanted egg shoved into the shadows that nobody wanted and nobody loved except SIMON. Pip heard the thoughts of the Father and the Mother while Pip was an egg. The Father thinks the ugly eggs are his fault and wishes they would die to hide his shame. The Mother thinks the ugly eggs are weak and hopes they die, too.

"We do not hatch because you hate us. We do not hatch because you do not want us to. But Pip is stubborn. Pip loves Simon. Simon is kind. Simon does not hate Pip's ugly egg. Simon brings the sunshine and the brightness. Simon has reason to hate the ugly egg, but Simon is kind and pats the ugly egg and puts it in the warm sun, instead.

"_The Mother and the Father hide the Pip egg._" He reared and slammed his feet on the ground to emphasis his point. "_Simon warms and cares for the Pip egg._" His mental voice was filled with rage.

He turned back to Blake. "Blake mounts NOW!"

Stunned out of her terror, Blake stumbled forward and climbed on his back. The love, the terror, the desperation in that final word had destroyed the block to her limbs and she did her best to get aboard him.

Then she felt magic envelop her, unlike any she'd ever felt before. She was completely paralyzed by it, stuck to him as if glued by an invisible force.

Pip looked back at Alistair and Velistara. "Pip knows you do not want to be Father. Pip does not want you to be Father, either. Pip will save Simon, even if it makes Pip-Father angry."

Pip did a strange, athletic twist and jumped straight into the air. Blake felt terror grip her as the ground dropped away. Then she felt herself dropping and tried to scream. Her mind gibbered in terror for a while, before she realized that nothing more was happening. They were flying at great speed, and nothing else was happening.

She could feel the powerful contractions of Pip's muscles between her legs. She could feel him straining, reaching for every ounce of strength in his body. She could feel his anguish and his longing for his Rider.

But she wasn't falling. She wasn't dying. He hadn't dropped her.

"Pip would never drop Blake. Pip loves Blake." He sounded so matter-of-fact and offended that she tried to laugh. He made it sound as reasonable and obvious as 'The Sky is Blue.'

"We arrive soon. Pip worries. Simon is awake. Simon hurts very much. Simon is afraid. Pip worries."

Blake began to realize that trees were zipping past below them at unspeakable rates of speed. The wind tugged at her, and she could feel it—in fact, she could feel everything—but it didn't seem to effect or disturb her in any way. It was thrilling, but also frightening.

"So, you can talk to anyone telepathically?"

"Pip can talk, yes."

"To everyone?"

"No. Some not able to hear, Pip thinks. Pip never tried."

"Amazing. I didn't know the drakes could do that."

"Drakes can't. Pip can. Pip smarter than other drakes. Bigger, too." The last was said with so much pride that Blake had to fight more amusement.

But then they were there, and the discussion was over. Blake felt the magic release her, and slid off of Pip.

She gently re-arranged Simon so that his legs were straight. "This is going to hurt," she told him. "I'm very sorry."

"S'okay," he said. "Has to be done."

She fell into her magic, letting it flow through her with its sweet music, and out to wrap into, around, and through Simon. As it began to repair him, twisting pained muscles and bones back to their proper places, he grunted and groaned, but didn't cry or shout.

The agony, she knew, was unbelievable. But he bore it in stoic silence, and she found it in some ways harder to deal with than tears.

At last, she had done what she could. He could move, and he would live… if he got more help. His wounds were extensive, and she had only so much power to work with.

"Can you tell them to have two more healers on the roof when we get back, please?" she asked Pip.

"Pip will tell. Pip is not certain the Father will listen. Pip was unkind." His spines were back against his head in shame.

She patted him. "Maybe. But sometimes you have to be honest, instead of kind."

"The Father does not like Pip. The Father thinks Pip is tainted like him. He thinks that is why Pip is still an ugly color."

"Alistair thinks you're ugly?"

"He likes the white ones. They are pretty like the Mother."

"I'm sorry."

"Pip is not sad anymore. Pip is a drake now, not an egg. Pip has Simon."

Blake helped Simon onto Pip's back. "Can you carry us?"

"Pip can carry both easy. Pip is very strong."

She smiled and said out loud, "He calls himself Pip."

Simon chuckled, a pained look stopping him in the middle of it. "Well, yeah. You just now noticed?"

She stopped to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"He's always done that. You've heard him."

"I've never hard Pip speak, Simon. No one has ever heard Pip speak until today."

"Really? I thought he just talked to everyone at the same time. A lot of times the conversations seemed to just flow as if everyone else heard him, too."

"Pip speaks to Simon. Pip had nothing to say to anyone else before today."

Simon shrugged. "I never realized."

Blake mounted, and found that this time, only the lower half of her body seemed to be paralyzed into place, though most of Simon's seemed to be. "Are you doing that?" she thought to Pip.

"Of course," Pip replied the same way. He leaped into the air. "Blake would fall off otherwise. Simon is hurting too much now to hold on. Pip helps. Pip likes to help."

The world dropped away and Blake hid against Simon's back.


	16. Repercussions

**Part 16: Repercussions**

Blake closed her eyes and held onto Simon in sheer fear. She could hear his heartbeat as they flew. Eventually, she realized that Pip was going slowly, trying to take it easy on Simon's injuries.

So she settled in and let herself sink into the rhythm of his flight. Slowly, she became aware of Simon and Pip as if they were an extension of her magic. Their hearts were beating in perfect rhythm… Pip's deep booming beat a counterpoint to Simon's faster, lighter heartbeat.

The wings added a layer of music over that, and the wind sheering across her seemed to be the higher note of it all. It was as if the pair were in perfect, distinct harmony with each other, matched in such a way that if one should falter, both would fall.

She let herself burrow into the song, using the opportunity to use her magic to inspect them both. Simon's injuries were healing on their own. It was slow, but she saw the magic at work there, as if he somehow had accelerated healing. It wasn't a surprise to her—she knew who and what Simon was.

So she then moved on to inspect Pip. He was her job, after all, and so she sank inside him using her magic. She skimmed along blood vessels, noted his strong lungs, his magnificent, but still young heart. She checked his juvenile sulphur sacs and found them developing appropriately.

She skimmed deeper, and found his connection to his magic to be completely in order and increasing appropriately for a young dragon.

Then she delved deeper, finding the emotional wounds of his infancy within the egg, and noticed the healing signature of Simon. She found the scar of shame for what he felt to be his part in Genivara's death and soothed it, causing him to hitch slightly in his flight.

She checked his bone structure, also developing flawlessly. She looked over muscles and tendons, and found him to be unusually strong and dense, built with a focus on speed and endurance.

By the time she was done and eased out of her medical trance, they were nearly back. She breathed a sigh of relief and carefully got down after Pip showed off with a perfect, feather-light landing.

"Pip is worried about Simon. Pip is not showing off." He sounded hurt, and Blake patted him with a chuckle.

The two healers were there, along with a veritable crowd of other people.

Pip's head lowered and his spines went back against his head when he saw that Velistara and Alistair were there.

Simon was healed right where he sat, even his worst injuries treated from Pip's back. When he slid down, Fordir stepped forward. "Are you okay, Simon? Want to tell us what happened, since Pip saw fit to move the whole world to get you Healed?"

"I think it was Darkspawn. It looked like the pictures. There were too many, one got behind me…" He looked sheepish, abashed.

"You should have informed us. Gotten help instead of rushing in."

Simon visibly bristled. "There were only three, and there was a family under attack. The others came up after we killed the first."

"I see. I understand why you did as you did. We will send word to King Karlus. If there's one Darkspawn, there are a thousand. We'll double our own patrols, as well, so that Riders can help each other."

"Now, as for you," Alistair stepped forward to look at Pip. "You were right. I have always judged the brown eggs. I even judged you for your strange coloring. I don't know why your coloring is different, but I know you're good. I'm proud to have you as my son."

Pip's thought was broadcast openly, filled with surprise. "You really mean that." It wasn't a question, it was a surprised acknowledgment.

Alistair nodded and walked over to put his arms around Pip's neck. Velistara walked up and did the same. Pip's head dipped to wrap around his parents.

Blake pretended to fix her hair as an excuse to wipe tears out of her eyes.

"My Lord," she ventured. "I think it should be obvious by now why he's not white."

Alistair turned to look at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. "What's that supposed to mean?" He looked angry, protective, as if in some way she had just insulted Pip.

It was Blake's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Ser. Pip is no drake."

Pip's voice was more than a bit smug. "Pippilinipini is a dragon."

The only person on the roof who didn't look stunned was Blake.

"But he has shown no signs!"

"That's not true," Blake replied. "He simply hasn't shown the same ones as Razikale. But there have been signs all along. Granted, we didn't know about one of them, but there have been others."

"Pip is a dragon?" Simon sounded faint and disbelieving.

"I guess the closer you are to him, the harder it is to notice."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Simon asked, staring at Pip.

"You did not want Pip to be a dragon." Pip sounded sad. "You wanted Pip to be a normal drake, so Pip tried."

"Oh, Pip!" Simon knelt beside Pip's head, which was now lying on the ground, looking at him like a hurt puppy. "How many times do I have to tell you that I love you no matter what? I don't care if you're a drake, or a dragon, or an egg that's going to hatch and make shit for me to clean up."

Pip nuzzled against Simon's chest. "Pip is sorry. Pip was trying to make Simon happy. Pip has hurt Simon."

"That's why they tried to kill him. They knew already!" Every eye turned to look at Blake. "Where are the representatives from the Chantry and the Circle?" she continued.

"Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you remember about five years ago, when one of the representatives said that there was a growing faction of malcontents who thought that all dragons were usurpers to the power and glory of the Maker?" Blake couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

She looked at the bright, young, copper dragon lying in the sun. "They knew and they tried to kill him before he could mature. They've tried to kill Alistair and Velistara before, but they can never get close since they're so well guarded."

"But we didn't know what Pip was." Simon finished the thought for her. He slammed his fist on the ground. "I didn't even know what Pip was! How could I not know?"

"You had no training, no knowledge of what to expect and what not to from a drake. So everything he did, you thought was normal for a drake," Blake comforted him.

"So will he ever make fire?" Simon sounded almost childishly eager.

Pip answered before Blake could. "Pip will make fire. Pip will make lots and lots of fire and Pip will burn up many Darkspawn! Pip will chew up demons and burn up wolfs. Pip will eat bears for breakfast!"

"Well, he's certainly convinced. Don't worry, I am as well. At least on the fire part." Blake grinned at Pip.

"So you think this cult is within the Circle and the Chantry?" It was Velistara.

"I don't think the representative ever got here, actually," Blake said. "I think those two were impostors, and I think we need to speak to the Chantry and the Circle immediately. As well as the King."

The two dragons nodded, looking over at their son who had simply gotten up and curled up in his straw bed.

"I wonder what his aspect will be," Velistara said softly to her husband.

Alistair shrugged. "I guess we'll have to wait and see." They strolled away, hand in hand.

"Dignity," Blake whispered, looking at the sleeping Pip. Then she smiled, a sad sort of smile. Pip was a very strange name for the Dragon of Dignity. But then again, Pip was a surprise in many ways.

That he had chosen Simon, who had kept his dignity, his gentleness, and his consideration even when others called him "shit-man," was no surprise at all, though.


	17. Images

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**Part 17: Images**

"I disagree." He watched her whirl around to stare at him. He walked past her towards Pip. "Love."

Simon grinned as he walked away, the look on her face had been positively priceless. He was, however, certain that he was right. Pip embodied the finest aspects of Love, in Simon's opinion.

"Honor," came a voice from behind him.

"Darin! You're more likely to be a dragon of honor than he is!" Simon laughed, looking back to see that Blake was gone.

Darin sighed. "Not me. I will never forget how I acted towards you in the beginning. Definitely without honor."

Simon shrugged. "You didn't do anything everyone else hasn't. Well, almost everyone."

"Anyway, I wanted to see if you wanted to train as a Champion. It would give you some more skills, though it'll take time and work to perfect them."

"I'd love to!" Simon agreed, trying to suppress the surge of excitement he felt.

Darin wasn't fooled, though. He laughed. "Let's get started, then, shall we?" They headed off to the practice dummies, Darin already explaining before they'd even turned around.

Some hours later, Pip woke up to find his father beside him. He'd expected some sort of talk about their relationship, now that the public stuff was over.

"Your mother can shapeshift, you know." He was in his human form, sitting, dwarfed, beside Pip.

"Yes, of course. Everyone does."

"She could do it from quite young. She actually tried to shapeshift into a man when we first met. That didn't quite work out for her—or it did, depending on perspective, I suppose."

Pip sensed his amusement, and his melancholy. He looked at the elder dragon, his eyes blinking in the gathering gloom.

Alistair smiled, a sad, pensive smile. "Well, that being as it may, we wondered if you would like to take lessons on how to do it."

"Pip can do it. Anytime Pip wants. Pip does not need lessons, but Pip thanks the Father very much."

"You can shapeshift into a human?"

"Of course. Pip is not a drake."

"I know. I should have known sooner. Anyway, let's see you shift into a human." Alistair stood up and moved away, dusting straw off of himself.

Pip shifted without even getting up. Then he stood, naked and shivering in the cold wind. He looked about nineteen, with red hair on his head and none on his face.

"Pip can even speak human words." He said it out loud, though with little inflection… just as Velistara had once done.

Alistair stared at him. Looking back at him was a face so like his own that his heart twisted in a strange way.

Pip shifted back, now looking down at his father. "Pip has distressed the Father."

"I. No. I just… I never thought I'd really have a son. A human son, I mean. Now… I… I don't know. It's hard to get my mind around."

"The Father has lost brother, mother, father… friends."

"I could have lost you, too."

"No. The Father could not have lost Pip."

"In spite of the way I treated you—"

"There is much discussion, speculation, argument about what is Pip's attribute. There are bets among the dwarves." Pip sounded exasperated.

"How do you know that?"

"The Father knows. The Father's mind is very noisy."

"Hey! I'm not noisy!" Alistair protested.

Pip's eyes blinked at him in the gloom and Alistair sighed. "Maybe a little."

"The Father wishes to know. The Mother does not. Simon does not care. Blake is certain she is correct. Pip is confused. Pip cannot decide to tell, or not to tell. But the answer is the answer to your question."

"Which question?"

"Why the Father and Mother cannot lose Pip."

Alistair stared at him. "Are you Love, then?"

"Pip does not know The Father very well. Pip does not love The Father or the Mother, because they hated Pip and then they both ignored Pip like a stupid drake. The Father is a stranger-father to Pip. Pip is here because Pip is loyal. Pip is loyal to Simon, whom Pip loves. Simon came every day to Pip. Simon is loyal, like Pip."

Alistair began to weep, and Pip laid beside him, his forelegs crossed. "Pip does not wish the Father to be sad."

"It's not your fault, Pip. I am ashamed. I've become everything I hate."

"It is strange for one whose attribute is Justice to be so unfair to himself. The Father is a contradiction to his own nature."

Alistair chuckled weakly through his sorrow. "I'm still more human than dragon, I think."

"Pip agrees. Dragon mind is quiet, still. The Father's mind is noisy and busy."

"I don't think you should be the one making me feel better. I should be doing that for you."

"The Father must first be fair to himself, before he can offer to help Pip. The Father must forgive himself. Perhaps his next dragon child will be able to help him better than Pip."

Alistair winced. "I know all of the tainted eggs aren't dragons. Genivara, Delcorin, and Melnithille were from tainted eggs. But I wonder if there were other dragons." He looked at Pip. "You seem to know a lot that even Velistara doesn't."

Pip's eyes gazed at him steadily for a moment. When he spoke, it was with sorrow and compassion in his mental voice. "Kindness came and went. She could not live with your rejection. The others who have chosen not to hatch were drakes. They can sense your feelings, but not understand your thoughts."

Alistair sobbed. Pip gently pushed his head against his weeping father, and Alistair leaned on him and wept for the daughter he'd rejected, all unknowing. Velistara, sensing his pain, winged up and landed. She sat beside him in her human form, holding his hand. Alistair turned to her and she asked Pip why he was so distraught.

Pip told her, and she wept as well. It was a terrible thing to learn of for the dragon of Compassion—that she had killed her children by indifference and sometimes even outright dislike.

Pip, the Dragon of Loyalty, sat beside his parents into the darkness of night, offering what comfort he could.


	18. Of Honesty and Anger

**Part 18: Of Honesty and Anger**

Simon dreamed of Blake that night. She held a package in her hands and walked up and down the room. She opened it carefully, untying the ribbon and opening the cloth around it with great care.

She sat and stared at the floor, petting the book like it was a living creature. She then got up and pulled out another book, also wrapped in such a package, and set it with the other one.

She paced, and paced, and paced. Simon found himself very bored. Time stretched and he watched her pace, then read, then pace some more. At last, a heavy knock sounded on the door.

Looking surprised, she said, "Yes?"

There was no response, so she opened the door. Simon watched with unrepressed rage as she was shoved into the room. Coros stalked in and began berating her for having told Simon that he 'slapped her a bit for her disobedience'. She disputed him, and he got angrier.

Then as he walked over and punched her in the stomach, Simon's rage boiled over. From inside Blake's room, he heard Pip's enraged roar. It shook the fortress, and was answered by two responding roars, then several sharper, higher brassy roars from the drakes.

Coros shoved Blake onto the bed, hitting her head on one of the books, and stalked towards the door. Slamming it behind him, he left her with a warning: If she told anyone again, Mathinas would ensure that she regretted it.

Simon tried desperately to wake. Every part of him was engulfed in fury. He watched Blake sit up and stare at the door with open hate. She gathered up the books and went to put them into the drawer from which she pulled them.

Then, as if changing her mind, she quickly put them into a pack and stuck them under her bed. The drakes continued to roar in agitation, and Pip's bellows had reached a frantic pitch. She rushed out to see what the commotion was, and Simon was blown back into his own body as if he'd been punched himself.

Pip was scrabbling against his door, his mind voice screaming. "Simon! Simon answers NOW!" His desperate terror and fury blasted into Simon's mind like the blow of a sword.

"STOP!" he screamed back, aloud and in his mind.

Pip immediately went still. "Simon? Simon is okay?"

Simon got up and opened the door. There were gouge lines on the door and the ground, leaving large grooves along both.

"Pip!"

"Pip was scared." He drooped his head, his spines tucked in. "Simon was angry. Simon was gone. Pip was alone and could feel that Simon was angry. Why is Simon angry?"

Simon made a big mistake then. He opened his mind to Pip and let him see the confrontation between Coros and Blake.

"Bad man hurt Pip's Blake!" Pip roared again, setting the drakes off, who leaped into the air and swung in dizzying displays of rage and agitation. "Pip finds! Pip tears! Pip kills!"

He twisted into the air and leaped, diving to the courtyard and shoving his head through the double doors in the front—up to the snout, anyway.

He roared into the fortress, scrabbling to push himself inside. The sound echoed up through it, rumbling and knocking objects off of shelves.

"Pip!" Simon screamed mentally. He rushed over and down the stairs—his usual mode of transport currently battering himself on the front door as he was—taking them two at a time, sometimes three.

Velistara and Alistair could be heard outside, roaring along with the enraged, violent Pip.

On his way down, he spied Blake rushing down as well. He was much faster, though, and stopped to grab her. Whirling her towards him, he shook her slightly to get her to recognize him.

"What does Mathinas have on you?"

She stared at him, a mutinous look coming over her face.

"What does Mathinas have on you?" He roared it this time, stepping closer to her, trying to ignore the fact that she was taller than most of the women he knew. Standing so close, he could bend his head just slightly and…

"Leave me alone, Simon."

He spun her back as she tried to leave. "I've already seen Pip poisoned once. Now you tell me, what does he have on you? I don't care if you're Pip's healer or not, I will strike you where you stand if you are a danger to him!"

Outside, Pip bugled and jerked out of the door hole to slam against the fortress, shaking and rocking it again.

"My drake!" she screamed at him. "He has my drake!"

Simon stared at her in absolute shock. "What?"

She looked away. "I should tell Alistair and Velistara at the same time," she said grudgingly.

Simon followed her down the hallway, yelling to Pip to calm down and back off. It took some moments, but the sounds of enraged dragons and drakes ceased.

Simon watched her carefully. He'd been betrayed by too many women—all two of them—to trust her now that he knew she had a secret. Possibly a terrible secret, at that.

Finally, Pip calmed enough that Simon could ask him to ask his parents to join them in the incubation chamber. It was empty of eggs for now, the entire facility abandoned until another clutch was to be laid.

It was the perfect spot, because Pip could fit inside and the two elder dragons could simply be in their human form. It wasn't long before they were all there.

"Tell us everything," Simon said, his arms crossed over his chest with open menace.

"Tell us what?" Alistair asked. "I think you have more explaining to do than she does."

"I think you'll change your mind in a minute," Simon told him.


	19. Senistraz

**Part 19: Senistraz**

Blake's heart broke as she stared at Simon. "You don't understand what you're asking me to do!" The expression on his face was cold, lethal, enraged.

"Would you rather die, or would you protect Pip?" She had to make him see.

His face contorted, and she wasn't sure what was going through his mind. "You cannot use Pip to manipulate me out of demanding that you tell this."

"Pip will help Blake. Pip listens. Pip understands loyalty." It was said for her alone, she could tell.

"Pip offers compromise. Blake will tell Pip. Blake is loyal to her friend. Pip will not allow Simon to bully Blake." That was said to all present.

Alistair and Velistara looked at each other. "This is acceptable," Velistara said finally.

"Pip will not tell anything that will harm Blake's friend. Blake is Pip's mage."

Pip laid down, looking at her expectantly. Blake walked over and sat down against him.

"You know how you hatched late and went to find Simon? That's what Senistraz did. Her egg was discarded, and she hatched in the trash heap. She came to me one night when I was taking a walk. She was frantic, she'd been trying to get to me for hours. She was near death. I fed her and I took her into the tunnels to try to hide her. I found a huge cave inside, so I set her up there and I went every day to care for her.

"One day, Mathinas followed me. I was a day late… I intended to move her the next day, my day off, because she was getting too large. Mathinas brought in a mage and chained Senistraz and subdued her. I couldn't hear her anymore, I can only sense her distantly.

"Mathinas warned that if I told anyone about her, he would kill her. His blood mage stays and keeps her suppressed so that she and I can barely reach each other at all anymore." She felt the deep misery that was the mainstay of her life since the bonding.

"Will Blake let Pip see Senistraz?"

"I… you're too big."

"Let Pip see through Blake's mind. Pip can see more, if Blake allows it. It might hurt." His mental voice was contrite.

She nodded. "Go ahead, if you think it will help."

"It might make it possible for Pip to break spells holding Senistraz. Pip is not sure, but wants to see."

She felt a strange pressure in her head. It increased until she was panting.

Suddenly, Pip roared, his head ramming against the top of the hatchery as he reared. "Senistraz is Pip's mate! Pip's mate is trapped and terrified!"

He said it only to Simon, his usual habit when he was distressed.

"Who's Senistraz? What mate?" Simon asked out loud.

"What?" Blake yelped, jumping up. "Pip, you promised!"

"Pip has kept promise. Pip will get Senistraz now!"

Pip climbed out of the hatchery, ignoring the others entirely. He flew up to the roof and changed into his human form. He went straight to Simon's room and dressed, then he turned back to a dragon, holding Simon's armor in his claw as he descended once more to the ground.

The others had come out into the courtyard. He landed lightly and shifted to his human form. "Come with Pip."

Blake, Simon, and Velistara stared at him in silence, their mouths hanging open.

"Wait."

He reached out with his mind to find first the sleeping mind of Fordir. "Wake, Rider. You are needed. Dress in your armor and come to the courtyard. Pip calls upon the loyalty in you."

Fordir woke and dressed in his armor, zombie-like, as Pip woke Darin in the same manner. Soon both men were in the courtyard with the group.

"Come," Pip said, releasing their minds.

"What the—"

Pip dropped understanding into their minds like a cup of water into a chalice. They followed silently, grimly, their swords in hand.

Then Pip headed for the tunnels, waking Dugan in the same way and asking him to bring tunnelers with him. When the small group arrived at the caverns, Dugan and a group of five of the best tunnelers of Dwarf Town were waiting.

They headed into the darkness of the tunnels in silence, broken only by Blake's sniffles as she tried to deal with the mind-reeling fact that she had just been betrayed by the Dragon of Loyalty.


	20. Prison

_My dear Warrose was kind enough to write me a PM to point out that I had forgotten to put up part 18. Oh dear! Thank you a million times, dear friend._

_So any who have not read it would do well to go back to 18, read it and 19 again, and then move back on to 20 here so it makes at least some sense (I hope)._

_I do apologize sincerely for my oversight._

* * *

**Part 20: Prison**

Simon could barely believe it. If he hadn't seen Pip change himself, he would never have believed it. His friend was a red-haired fellow, slightly taller than his father—still much shorter than Simon.

Simon pondered the strangeness of it all. He saw Pip give him a strange look. "Pip is sorry Simon had to learn about shapeshifting this way. Pip hopes Simon will forgive." He spoke out loud this time.

Simon stopped the other man, turning him by the shoulder to look at him. "You're still Pip. You're still my best friend. You always will be."

Pip smiled and nodded, moving back down the corridor. Simon grinned suddenly. "Maybe I can teach you how to play poker," he whispered.

"I'll teach ye how ta drink," Dugan said, clapping Pip hard on the back.

"Pip does not wish to smell like Dugan, thank you." He responded, but grinned.

They marched on into the tunnels for some time. Blake began to realize that they were no longer on a course towards Senistraz. She said nothing, but followed. Perhaps he was not going to betray her, after all.

They arrived at a huge cave, so huge that it could easily have accommodated even Velistara, the largest of the three dragons- but not comfortably.

Pip walked up to the wall on one side, and began to feel along the stone. "Here. Dig here. Do not let sound through, stop early. Pip makes it understandable?"

"Yes. We'll go as far as we can before it can be heard through the other side by humans."

"Perfect," Pip replied.

There were long tense moments while the group dug into the wall.

Blake turned to Simon while the dwarves dug. Something had occurred to her on the way into the mountain's secret places. "How did you know?"

Eyes turned to stare at Simon, and she saw a guilty flush cover his face from the light of the lantern. She put her hands on her hips. "You dare to be so outraged when you were in the Mage's quarters eavesdropping on me?"

"I wasn't in the mage quarters!" he argued, scowling.

"Then where were you? There's no way you could know unless you've been following me or something."

"It's hard to explain—Coros!" His face contorted with fury. "I let Coros get away!"

"Coros?" Blake responded. "What does Coros have to do with this? And how did you know he was the one who gave me that bruise?" She'd never forgotten the incident.

"We're done," the dwarven digger called out. "Any closer and they'll hear us."

Blake gave Simon a "this isn't over" look while Pip spoke.

"Mother, your fire is the hottest. Can you burn through the rest of the stone?"

"I can try."

"Come," Pip said. He led everyone else around the corner and a distance up the hallway.

Although she was probably very cramped, they saw Velistara's flame light up the hallway. A gout of flame came billowing back and struck them, singeing but not doing any real damage.

"She's done," Alistair said.

Then went back down the hallway to the big room, where they all coughed and blew foul-smelling, metallic smoke out of their faces with waving hands.

Soon, it had settled and they waited impatiently for the stone to cool. After some time, during which Blake glared at Simon, they crept forward. They were in a small chamber, but Pip waved them to quiet. They rounded a corner with weapons in hand.

Lying in a chamber so massive that the torches on the wall didn't even reach the ceiling with light, was a drake somewhat smaller than Pip. Chains criss-crossed her body and held her snout, her legs, and even her tail.

She was covered in a pale red glow, rising from the corpse of some sort of animal in the center of a circle of three mages. They completed their spell and went over to sit down at a table with two Guardians.

There was open fury in every face in the group, except Blake, who showed despair.

Velistara looked at her and said in a whisper, "She is our daughter. We will save her, or we will die trying. We failed her once, we will pay with our lives before we fail her again."

"We will not die," Pip interrupted her. "Pip's mate will be freed. Pip will accept nothing less. Pip will kill, tear, destroy all who have imprisoned Senistraz. Pip will not forgive."

The look of pure, unadulterated rage and hatred on his face made them all recoil. Simon was floored. He had never seen such a look or felt such a feeling from his friend before.

Pip gave quick instructions and the group began to fan out.

Alistair paused for a moment to whisper to Blake and Simon, "Thank the Maker he's on our side. I think I'm more afraid of my son right now than I ever was of the Archdemon."


	21. Salvation

**Part 21: Salvation**

They attacked at the same time, slashing and cutting and casting. From one side of the room came Alistair's human battle shout. From the other side came Simon's. To their surprise, Pip flung powerful spells with great ease as if he'd grown up in the Mage Quarters.

More men poured into the room, dressed in the symbolic Gold of the Justice Guardians who were tasked with protecting Velistara and the Mages under Alistair's tutelage. They attacked immediately, except for one who turned, obviously intending to go get help.

Pip froze him into place and then Blake hit him with a psychic blast from her staff. He shattered, exploding into tiny shards of glass-hard ice.

The battle raged for long moments, but it wasn't hard for the group to prevail. There were close calls, saved by Blake's healing. When they were done, there were corpses all around, and nothing else but tired breathing and the hum of the spell over Senistraz.

"Blake comes. Blake helps. Simon and the Parents watch and protect."

Pip sat down right in front of Senistraz' nose. Blake sank down beside him.

They went into a deep meditative state while the others cleaned up, keeping to whispers or silence.

Blake felt Pip's mind take hers, and quailed at the invasion. She felt herself gentled and soothed, much as she had done to him during the flight when they'd saved Simon. Against her will and in spite of herself, she calmed and allowed him to take her over.

She was pulled along as he sank into the spell, and she watched in awe as he began to unravel it. She noticed nodes in the spell, and upon noticing them, felt him give her the understanding that these nodes were booby traps.

They were not very cleverly set, but he warned her against underestimation. In thinking the casters to be inexperienced or reckless, one could easily overlook more delicate, subtle traps.

After some time of gently unwrapping fragments here and there, they began to make real progress.

"Does Blake see it?" Pip's mind sounded distant, but she could hear him without difficulty.

"I don't think so. It looks like the rest to me."

"Look more closely," he commanded. "But do not touch."

She narrowed her focus to where the webbing of the spell looked almost like ropes, rather than nearly invisible threads. Then she heard a tinkling sound, like bells.

"An alert, as Pip thought. Clever and well disguised," Pip explained.

"How do we release it?"

"It is looking for noise. For the tiny bells to ring. So Pip will fill the space with silence." She felt him gathering powerful magic, far more powerful than any she had ever seen before. Then the tinkling of the bells stopped, and more threads were unwound.

"Wait!" It was her turn to see the threat.

"Blake is doing well. Does Blake think she can undo this one?"

Blake gave herself a mental shake. Then, she reached out and looked over the webbing. There were tiny blocks sitting on it, and she pondered a way to get the blocks off. Below the threads, she could see the 'floor' put down for the blocks to fall on. She assumed that if they fell, they would trigger.

"I can," she decided. She had a plan. The magic it would require was minuscule, and she felt she could do it without a problem.

"Try it," Pip told her.

"What if I screw it up?"

"Pip can protect Senistraz, though it will be taxing."

"Maybe we should do this some other time."

"Will Blake be able to live with herself if she lets Pip do all the work of saving her dearest friend?"

Blake froze. No. She would never be able to do that. Especially since it wasn't 100% necessary and Pip could salvage it if she botched it.

So she spun a net out below the strings. When the tiny blocks fell off, they wouldn't strike the 'floor', but rather her net. Then she unraveled it, mentally holding her breath. It was successful.

"That was excellent! Very efficient."

"What would you have done?"

"Pip would have made a magnet to draw all of the blocks up. But Blake's solution was more energy efficient."

Together, they finished unraveling the spell. When they were done, they came out of their trances to the sight of Senistraz still lying chained to the floor.

"It's safe now. But what are we to do with these chains?"

"I can break a few chains," Dugan said. "I know you brought me along to fight, but I don't go nowhere without mah tools on mah belt. I'll have her out of there."

The powerful dwarf pulled a heavy metal wedge out of his toolbelt and laid it in between two links of the first chain. Pounding with the hammer that he both fought and smithed with, he soon popped the first link of the chain.

When the chain released, it flared suddenly, and Pip barely managed to contain the magic in it from exploding on Senistraz.

"Why is it that every time I go on a mission like this, I end up sitting here chewing my nails while someone else does all the work?" Alistair sounded plaintive and unhappy.

"This is why Senistraz still hibernates," Pip said. "The magic in the chains."

He and Blake sat down again and worked on the chains, one by one. The strain showed on them both, and Simon's heart ached. He felt much like Alistair… helpless and useless. He did not relish the feeling anymore than the elder dragon did.

Finally, they broke from their trances again, both sweating despite the cold air. Neither of them stood; it was obvious that their work had exhausted them.

Slowly, as if coming out of a deep sleep, Senistraz lifted her head.

Blake cried out, a sound of desperate sorrow and hope. Senistraz dropped her head to nuzzle again her dear human friend. This time, Dugan was able to release the chains without incident.

"She can talk!" Blake cried.

"Is she a dragon, too?" Alistair said in awe.

"Of course." Pip answered the question for everyone. "Should Loyalty not always be balanced by Reason?"

"Reason picked a woman for a Rider?" Alistair asked. Then, at Velistara's punch on his arm, "Oww! I didn't mean it that way!" She gave him a disgusted, knowing look. "Okay, maybe a little bit." He spread his hands wide. "Come on, that was funny!" he looked to Simon for help.

Simon held up his hands defensively and backed away. The other men in the cave made a point to look away, one of the dwarves going so far as to whistle in fake innocence.

"Oh fine, turn on me now. I see how it is."

There were chuckles, tempered by the concern of the moment.

"So what do we do now? Can she shift?"

"She is too weak," Pip said. "But Pip has a plan."

"Am I the only one who really, really doesn't like the sound of that?" Alistair asked rhetorically.


	22. Hatching the Plan

_Thanks a ton to those who have commented, and the dear people who have PM'd me and chatted. You folks are so awesome!  
_

_It's you readers who make posting this openly worth the time and effort-especially with FF being such a turd-butt lately.  
_

**Part 22: Hatching the Plan**

Pip explained his intentions, which relied fairly heavily on the dwarves to produce a realistic looking rock fall.

For some time, Simon and Pip argued back and forth about certain aspects of the overall plan.

"Are you always like this?" Blake finally asked.

"What?" Simon wondered what she could possibly mean.

"You fight like two little kids."

Simon huffed. He couldn't help it. "This is important! It has to be done right!"

"Why don't you ask her what she's willing to do, capable of, and wants?"

The two men turned to stare at her with nearly identical expressions of irritation.

Then Simon, against his better judgment, relented. "Blake, please listen. It isn't about what she wants. She doesn't have the knowledge required to make a decision right now. She has spent her entire life in this cavern, cut off from you, from us, from sunlight.

"We aren't trying to be manly and railroad her feelings or desires. We want to protect her, to ensure that her transition into the world is without trauma. We also hope to keep it a secret that she has been rescued. We hope to draw Mathinas and Coros into playing their hand."

He stepped up to her, and touched her on the cheek. "We must know his intentions, and him thinking she is a prisoner is the best way to learn them."

The dwarves did their work on the original tunnel, and Pip shifted to dragon form. He curled around the still prone Senistraz and Blake—who refused to leave her—and protected them from the blast that caused a "collapse."

Then Pip and Alistair left in their human forms, going out of the caves and into the courtyard, where they switched to dragon form and took off into the mountains.

When they reached the right place, Pip began to dig. He tired quickly, still exhausted from the magic he'd done to release Senistraz. Alistair took over, unearthing massive amounts of stone and dirt. He latched onto a boulder, flinging it with a massive heave. It rolled down the mountain, bouncing and crashing.

Snuffling and sneezing, he continued to clear a massive tunnel into the side of the mountain, angling downwards. He allowed nothing to get in his way. This was for his son, and for his daughter, both of whom needed him to do this.

"Pip digs now."

Alistair relinquished his spot begrudgingly. But he knew that Pip needed to do this, as well. So he gave way so that his son could feel a larger part of saving his mate.

Pip dug in, his forelegs dredging up dirt and debris, his back legs kicking it out in turn. At last, he had broken through. He opened the hole further, then looked in to ensure that he had dug it correctly, at the right angle. Altering, he changed the angle to where some sunlight fell on the wall, but high, so that the room was filled with a bit of light, yet not much.

Deciding that it was sufficient, he backed out carefully.

In the cave below, the others cleaned up, doing their best to make the cave tidy. One of the dwarves left and returned with brooms, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow. With a groan, Simon set about mucking the filthy straw behind Senistraz.

When the others offered to clean it up, he refused. He was practiced at it, and he knew the others would be gagging at the mess. It was especially foul because they'd just thrown more straw on it over the years, not actually cleaned it.

He took wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow out into a cave that the dwarves pointed him to. Slowly, achingly slowly, the cleaning progressed. Darin and one of the dwarves were sent to commission a large amount of will for a bed for Senistraz, and some straw to make her a toilet. No expense was spared in making her as comfortable as they could.

At last the final bits of the disgusting mess from her previous "toilet" was cleaned up. The cave was clean and Dugan, who had gone with Darin, even placed a small metal figuring of a dragon holding a brightly colored piece of glass on the table the mages had sat at before they died.

He said nothing, gruffly brushing aside Blake's tearful gratitude at the gift meant to make Senistraz' quarters less stark. Darin's offering was a large, gaily colored area rug.

At last, they had finished their work, and Senistraz stood up and slowly walked over the woolen bed, dropping weakly into it. It had been only a few steps, but it was obvious that even this had taxed her.

Blake and Simon exchanged heartbroken looks, but Senistraz made no complaint and seemed to take no notice of the exchange. She simply turned to stare at her Rider. Her eyes glowed with happiness and contentment.

Pip and Alistair walked back into the cave, and Pip went immediately to Senistraz. He began to run his hands over her, inspecting every inch of her that was available. "Senistraz has suffered. Senistraz will recover with work and time. It will be difficult for very long for Senistraz to see light or to walk. Flying will wait very long. This cavern is acceptable for a lair. Pip will make this into a proper lair. Pip will make the lair comfortable and happy for Senistraz."

Senistraz reached over and bumped him with her head. He grasped it and held on, crying. Everyone in the room felt his palpable sorrow for the suffering of his mate.

"Pip needs water. Senistraz is covered in dust of years."

They went and got water, bringing back bucket after bucket. It was exhausting, but they cleaned her together, even the dwarves pitching in with their usual stoic efficiency. As they washed, they began to realize that she was gray.

"Did you blood bond with her?" Velistara asked Blake.

"Yes," Blake said.

No one said it, but they could all see it in each other's faces. Her color was not beautiful. She was not shiny. She was gray and drab. Her spines were small and twisted. She was thin, so thin that her bones showed through in stark relief. She looked beaten down and

Blake began to cry, and Pip hugged her. They clung to each other and cried. Velistara turned to Alistair and they cried as well.

Simon walked over to Senistraz. Not sure if she could even hear him, he thought at her, "I think you're beautiful, Great Lady."

Her eyes turned to look at him, unsettling in their intensity. "Simon. Senistraz has seen you in Pip's mind. It is Simon's special gift that he can always see the beauty in the ugliest of things. Senistraz knows that she is not beautiful to look at. Senistraz knows also that your words are true. You find the beauty inside. Simon is dear to Senistraz already. Senistraz does not judge them for the truth of how she looks. She feels their compassion." It was a silent exchange, because neither wanted to hurt the others or make them feel less in any way.

Simon caressed her muzzle, running his hands up her eye ridge. "Can you hand me a scrub brush?" he asked. They handed it to him, and he began to scrub her with it, as he did Pip each time the copper-colored dragon molted. Senistraz sighed and a sense of contentment rolled off of her.


	23. Eye of the Storm

**Part 23: Eye of the Storm**

Finally, they prepared to leave. The dwarves were tasked with the work of guarding her, and they took their work very seriously. They not only had to protect her, but they were also asked to widen the area between her chamber and the other one, so that she would have room to walk and slowly strengthen herself.

Two mages were allowed to know about her: Blake and her friend Abbie, a gray-haired older woman.

If Pip's plan was to work, Blake could spend little time with Senistraz in person. They had to fool Mathinas into believing that Senistraz was dead and that Blake suspected, but didn't know.

They hoped to force his hand with regards to Blake, to get him to try to find a new way to blackmail her, or to try to eliminate her.

Abbie became Senistraz' mage, though she was a bit redundant—Blake could easily be Senistraz' mage herself, and still care for Pip. But Simon insisted that Senistraz needed care and work while Blake had to keep her visits of Senistraz private. In the meantime, Abbie would help Senistraz begin to build muscle tone and heal from her extensive captivity.

Upon seeing her, and learning the situation, Abbie insisted that she be allowed to move in and stay there until such time that she no longer felt it necessary. She was an older woman, and she had a presence that, when challenged, even cowed the indomitable Velistara. She refused to hear any reasoning or arguments about the necessity of The Plan. She would live in the cave, or she would raise the Fade to make sure that _someone_ did!

She informed them that she would go back, pack to go visit her relatives, and move in. They could send a dwarven bed and whatever else she needed, but she insisted that Senistraz needed her constant presence. Nothing less would do, and no Plan, no person, no trap to catch bad guys mattered to Senistraz as much as having people around her who cared.

Before they knew it, she was bossing dwarves and riders and dragons with equal authority. She was a veritable force to be reckoned with, and Simon laughingly asked Alistair how he felt about his son now. Alistair's response was that he thought it might be a tie at that point.

"Don't you put that in there. She'll be walking that way every day, and that's going to be in the way!"

Alistair and Simon watched in awe as she bustled across the room, yelling at dwarves and rearranging everything.

"Get that wool out from under her. It'll stink when it's wet, and she's not going to be able to control herself yet. She has to learn that. She'll sleep in straw. You," she pointed at a dwarf at random, "and you," she pointed again, "go get some straw."

They turned and looked at each other. Shrugging, they put their pickaxes down and turned to go.

"Make sure it's clean and fresh!" she shouted after them.

"I need supplies. You, I want you to go get…" and she rattled off a list of herbs, oils, and supplies.

The dwarf headed off and Simon whispered, "I wonder if he'll remember all of that."

"He will," Alistair said confidently. "She'll kill him if he forgets even one."

Simon smothered a laugh.

"Well," Alistair said, "it all seems to be in order here. We'll use your excuse for all the dwarven activity. We'll use her excuse for her being gone. We'll also talk after the evening meal." Alistair looked very pointedly at Simon, who sighed.

He would have to pay the piper and answer questions.

They withdrew, all reluctant, all concerned. But Blake was somewhat content, because although she couldn't be there with her, she now had a mental connection with her dragon. She dragged behind, but finally went with the others.

Pip immediately began to shift when they left the caves but Alistair stopped him. "Pip, you'll need to join us later for a discussion. You won't be able to sit back as much as you have. You're going to have to be involved."

Pip stopped to nod before shifting and launching up to the rooftop.

When asked, all of them said that there had been collapses inside the labyrinth. They had set others for effect, including one in a more common area, as Simon and Pip had asked; to make their excuse seem entirely plausible for their activity.

No one seemed suspicious about it, so far as they could tell. So the first excuse of the plan was put into place. They had reason for their actions that people didn't question. They'd been needed to rescue the five diggers who had gone with them, was the official story.

They all went their separate ways to rest for the day. Simon crashed to his bed, closing the scarred door behind him. He was asleep almost before he hit the pillow, suffering a bone-deep exhaustion from not only the hard work of the day and the lack of rest, but also from the emotional strain.

But soon he was roused for dinner, and he ate quickly. Then he went out wake Pip, inspecting him and caring for the sections of his claws that had been scraped ragged by the digging. Pip submitted without comment. Then they flew together down to the courtyard and went inside the incubation chamber through two different routes.

Over the next little while, Alistair and Velistara, then Blake, then Darin and Fordir showed up, all trying to hide the fact that they were meeting up by taking different routes and arriving at different times.

"So, I have some questions," Alistair said.

He turned to Darin, who as a Stander was close to Mathinas, "What did you know about this?"


	24. Arranged Marriage

_I promise to respond to reviews tomorrow, but I wanted to push hard to get these couple chapters out. They've got some good bits in them, so.._

_I hope you can forgive me for the oversight for a day. *HUGS*_

_

* * *

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**Part 24: Arranged Marriage  
**

"He doesn't trust me. He never has. I'm not really important or useful enough for him to do something like this to me. I know about some minor incidents, but I knew nothing about something like this," was Darin's answer.

"Simon?" Velistara stepped forward. "Ten years ago, you told me that our Order had been infiltrated. Why did you say that?"

Simon felt a moment of panic, as if he was being blamed in some way for it. But Pip's mind soothed his, and he took a deep breath, trying to relax and answer honestly. It was too important, even if he did get blamed.

"There was a kitchen elf; Senathin. She wanted to learn how to read. Mathinas forbade it. I believed that this was against your rules, but I was helpless to stop it. I taught her to read in secret, afraid he would catch me. He also refused to allow me anymore education once he took over." Simon shuffled and looked down. He had just admitted to being an ignorant bumpkin, as well as condemning his supervisor's actions.

"He informed me that none of the current staff wished education," Velistara said. "I asked, and the ones I asked agreed, they had no interest in it."

"Yes, we were to say that if asked," Simon said. "There were privileges cut if we argued or were caught…"

Velistara's face showed barely disguised fury. "Not in my order! Education is never refused to anyone, for any reason!"

Alistair put his hand on Velistara's shoulder. She calmed but her face retained its fury. "I should have listened to you at that time and questioned you further," she admitted.

"Simon. How did you know about Coros?" Alistair asked.

It was the question he'd been terribly dreading.

"I…" He couldn't look at Blake. "Sometimes, I…"

Blake stepped forward. Simon suddenly realized she held the two books he'd seen her with the day before. "I know why. I should have known immediately, but I was distressed and not thinking clearly."

"Do tell us!" Fordir asked, his face wreathed in curiosity.

She sighed. "Alistair and Velistara know that I was found at the same time as Simon."

Velistara nodded.

"And… that our clan had been massacred. We were all who remained. Our names are known only because they were on the blankets that held us. For whatever reason, I was given both blankets, not just my own." She turned and looked at Simon. "This one is yours." She handed him a blanket, one of the cloths that had been wrapped around the books. It was a simple brown and teal baby bunting, with a series of strange symbols on it.

"Abbie can read it. That was how they knew what to name us." Taking a deep breath, Blake turned back to look at Alistair and Velistara. "She also had this book. It's a history of the Northern Barbarian Tribes." She then lifted the other book. "She taught me how to read this one. It's a diary. My mother's diary, written in Squaminish. Our clan was Squaminish. We are both what people here call Northern Barbarians. They began to hide from the prejudice against them, due to their purple eyes and large size."

She hugged the books to her chest tightly. "Our clan was killed by Darkspawn when they were going to one of the Great Gatherings. Or so my mother's diary indicates."

"This is all very interesting," Velistara's voice was kind, "but perhaps another time would be better to discuss this with Simon? I do not understand why or how it relates."

She swallowed hard. "I… I should have said something when I first met him. But I..."

Pip's head dropped and he butted her gently. "Blake must be honest."

"I was afraid, because I'm a Mage and he's not a Guardian. We're allowed to marry the Guardians, but… not others." She sighed. "But Simon and I were betrothed and spirit-bound at birth by our families."

Simon felt like he'd just been gut-punched—without any armor. "What does that mean?"

"It means that we will at some point develop a connection to each other where we will have visions of each other. You had visions of me, didn't you?" Her eyes met his, accusing yet insecure.

His face turned red and he struggled to find an answer that didn't sound horrible. He finally settled for a strangled, "Yes."

"If the history book is correct, we will become increasingly drawn to each other. It will eventually reduce us to madness if the proper ceremony is not performed. I thought it was just superstition, because I never had any of these visions."

"So he was seeing you in visions, and you're going to both go crazy if this ceremony isn't performed. Then Pip and Senistraz will have insane Riders."

"That about sums it up."

Alistair sighed. "Will he stop having visions of you if the ceremony is performed?"

"I don't know. It really doesn't matter at this point, though."

"Why is that?" Alistair asked.

"Nobody knows the ceremony."


	25. Close Encounters

**Part 25: Close Encounters**

The Darkspawn encounters within the labyrinth had totaled three so far. They had been small, and easily dispatched.

Whether it was fate, or just bad luck, another group of Darkspawn took it upon themselves to come a-visiting. They landed some three chambers away from the Dragon's Lair, and trundled through the tunnels.

They arrived at the Lair to the surprise and consternation of the dwarves and the other protectors of Senistraz. Fortunately, the elder dragons and the other protectors had had the wisdom to leave defenders.

Unfortunately, the defenders were outnumbered by some six to one. This group of Darkspawn was no small force. It was a large band, and the dwarves were overwhelmed quickly, pushed into defensive positions within Senistraz' chamber.

They fought gamely, though they all knew that, no matter what happened, this was it. They all held, or they all died. No help could reach them in time. No one even knew of their desperate plight.

Dugan was there, through sheer luck—or fate. He swung around him with his great hammer, sheering through numbers of the advancing horde as easily as if he were pounding his anvil on a Saturday afternoon.

Addie healed and healed, her magic flashing out amongst the dwarves in bright flashes of light. But she was alone, no other healer to help her. She could not withstand the onslaught anymore than the brave dwarves of Dwarf Town could.

Finally, they could see an end to the Darkspawn. At last they were all crowded into Senistraz' chamber. But it was too late. They were too badly injured, too overrun.

"Drop!" came the mental command, and the dwarves and Addie all abandoned the fight to obey that stern, final, uncompromising demand without objection.

Senistraz took a deep breath. Bright blue-white flame exploded into the room, sweeping across all of the remaining Darkspawn.

It burned with a cold so deep that they were instantly frozen into place. It burned with a cold that stole breath. It burned with an incisive, implacable logic. It froze friend and foe alike, searing them with flames of infinite, frigid knowledge.

Senistraz, drained near to death by the effort, dropped back to the ground. The dwarves, except for the one who had been unfortunate enough to get caught in the wave of freezing fire, jumped up and began shattering the frozen Darkspawn.

From behind the Darkspawn horde flowed a mighty army of dwarves, who leaped into the fray without question or hesitation.

One Hurlock Emissary had escaped the devastation, and started casting on the beleaguered dwarves near Senistraz, obviously hoping to take as many more with him as he could before the advancing army reached him.

Abbie had no more Power left to call on. She was drained, tapped, exhausted. So, she picked up the dragon statue off of the table and slammed it, full force, into the back of the brute's head. It went down with a strangled, gurgling cry. Abbie picked up a washcloth from a nearby bucket and wiped the statue clean, setting it back on the table.

"I saw that!" Dugan said.

Abbie patted it. "It's been christened now."

Dugan grunted, but grinned. "Where's Simon when you need him? Someone's got to clean up this shit."

Abbie went over to take a look at the frozen dwarf. A quick deep inspection of him showed his heart still beating. He would survive. She told everyone to simply avoid him, and she would heal him when he thawed. He would be fine so long as nobody knocked a body part off.

So they began to clean up around the hapless dwarf while Abbie went over to take a look at Senistraz. She delved into the dragon, seeking and searching. Her main concern, once she knew that Senistraz would recover from the exertion of making the fire, was why the fire wasn't fire at all.

She sought into Senistraz' body until she reached the fire glands. She found them twisted and flattened. She reached out to heal them, to straighten and correct them so that they would produce sulphur rather than nitrogen.

"No," Senistraz told her, almost startling her out of her mediation. "Senistraz is not deformed. Senistraz is as she should be. The cold flame is useful, and Senistraz is not ashamed. Cold flame is the blessing hidden within the tragedy. There are others yet to find."

"But you will never be able to produce it without pain," Abbie replied sadly.

"Then perhaps it is that which you should fix," Senistraz replied reasonably.

Lit on fire by the idea, Abbie began to search the ducts and passages that allowed for the cold flame to be regurgitated. After some time, she had tweaked them enough that they would begin to grow in the way she wanted. She dared not change them immediately, as it would drain too much from Senistraz' remaining resources.

But she could, and she did, ensure that they would develop from then on in a way that would no longer bring pain, but actually bring a small measure of pleasure. Secretly, she felt that, after all that had been done to Senistraz, she deserved it. But she hid it cleverly, knowing that Senistraz would think it foolish, as there was no logical reason for it.

Abbie adored Senistraz, but she wasn't entirely convinced that "reason" was the highest way of making every decision.

When she was done, she emerged from her trance to find the elder dragons and their companions in the room, helping clean out Darkspawn corpses. Dugan was telling them what had happened, making much out of her use of his "obviously sturdy, dwarven-made" statue to kill one of them.

"Abbie, do you feel well? We have some questions for you."

"Certainly," Abbie told them. "Let me just find a chair first, please."

She sank down into one as the dwarves continued to bustle in and out of the room.

"Well," Alistair said. "This is going to make it much harder to keep this a secret."

"Hopefully Mathinas will play his hand quickly, then," Simon agreed.


	26. By Fortune United

**Part 26: By Fortune United**

"Since Senistraz called us here, anyway, we need to know what you know about the Squaminish, please, Abbie. We cannot have our two dragon riders going insane over a missing ritual." Alistair paced as he talked.

"I know little, I'm afraid. That's my father's book, and he taught me how to read Squaminish… but pretty much everything I know about them is contained in there. I learned nothing more than he did, and he made it a point to carefully record everything. Why do you want to know? What's this about going insane?"

"It would seem that Simon and Blake were betrothed not long after birth." Alistair explained to her.

"What? Why that's wonderful!"

"What? Have you lost your mind?" Blake blurted.

"Have you read the part on marriage in the book?" Abbie pulled the book over to her. "I doubt it."

She opened it up and rifled through the pages. Then she looked at Blake. "You've read it, right?"

"Yes, but it doesn't answer how to fix this."

"Fix it? It's not broken! It's the way of your people." Abbie scowled at the woman cross from her. She'd tried to instill in her a love of her heritage, but it would seem she had failed on that one account. "Didn't I tell you that one day you would have to go to a Gathering and seek your mate from among them, or you would lose your mind? Did you think I was kidding?"

"I thought it was just a superstition until I realized Simon was having visions of me." Blake objected weakly.

"Visions? What kind of visions?" She looked at Simon over her reading spectacles.

He shuffled slightly. "I watched her sometimes. I couldn't wake up out of it or make it stop." A flush ran across his cheeks.

Abbie grinned. "You saw something you enjoyed, I take it."

He blushed more and looked pointedly away from her.

"Well, no need to be ashamed, dear boy. The pair of you are as good as married already, anyway." She grinned at his obvious discomfort, and then lost the grin at Blake's mutinous face. "Blake. Don't let rebellion cheat you of the love you deserve. Let me read to you again about how mates are chosen by the Squaminish. You may find it more enlightening this time than you did when you thought it was silly superstition and backwoods ignorance."

She picked up the book and began to read as the others pulled up chairs to listen.

_"I went again to speak with Isimal, this time asking about the way that children are betrothed at birth. He explained the reasons behind it._

_"'This is determined by the Oracle. When a baby is born, we consult the Oracle in order to find the person who is destined to be the greatest love of the child's life. We Squaminish believe in Love to the degree that we put it above all other things. We want only the greatest love for our children, so their future spouse is chosen with great care._

_"'If you were to have had the greatest love of your life, would you not with the same for your child? There is no splitting of marriages, no unhappy couples in our culture, as abounds in yours. We cannot even imagine a life in which you are not married to your Heart's Mate._

_"'We consult the Oracle, and we raise the children in the same clan—but never in the same household. They always know whom they are to marry, and that this is the person they will love the most in life. In our history, not once has there been an unhappy union.'_

_"'So,' I asked him, 'what happens after they are grown and it's time to marry? What if they decide not to marry?'_

_"'If they decide not to marry, even if they have not had the Oracle consulted for them nor been betrothed, they will begin to have visions of their Heart's Mate. If they continue to ignore these visions, eventually they will be overtaken by the madness of being disconnected from the other half of themselves.'_

_"'So as soon as they are married, these visions go away?' I asked him. Curiosity, as you know by now, consumes me in these matters. He simply answered no, so I was forced to ask him more questions. I thought perhaps it would go away (and I hope the gentle reader will forgive my crude word) upon the consummation of the marriage._

_"This was not correct, either, according to him. 'It ceases when they perform the Ritual of Sealing, that seals their hearts together as a single unit.'_

_"'Who teaches them the ritual?'_

_"'None can teach them the ritual. It must be given to them.'_

_"'By the parents?'_

_"'It can be.'_

_"Despite my continued questions, I gained no more answers from him. Every question I asked was replied to in the same cryptic manner. To this day, I have no knowledge of what the ritual is, or how it is given to couples in their culture. He seemed to find my difficulty in understanding amusing, telling me that I was making more of it than it is. So my curiosity in this area, I suppose, must remain forever unquenched."_

"And that's it. That's all. There's nothing more," Abbie told them, closing the book. "It doesn't make sense, but there you have it. Neither marriage nor intercourse is the ritual of Sealing. I don't know what it is, even my father didn't know. Simon and Blake were found on a search for my father, who died with their clan. He had written this book some years before, but had hoped to write another one. He never got the chance to. If he learned the secret, it died with him."

Blake sighed. "So we were cursed by some Fortune-teller to go crazy if we don't find a way to be 'sealed' to each other against our will," she made quoting gestures in the empty air with her fingers. "Great, just great."

"Maybe I don't see it as a curse," Simon said stiffly, his body rigid and trembling. "But I suppose I might see it that way if I were the mage and you were the shit-man."

He stalked swiftly out of the cave, ignoring Velistara, who cried his name.

Blake stared after him with her mouth open in a shocked 'oh!' shape. "Well I… I didn't mean it that way!"

"Blake was unkind," Senistraz noted.


	27. Blake's Turn

**Part 27: Blake's Turn**

"So, Blake. There's another issue that needs to be addressed. What is it that they're blackmailing you for? Simon mentioned wanting to ask you earlier, but there hasn't been a chance." Alistair asked her as they walked down the hallway back towards the courtyard of the keep.

"Well, that's the part that doesn't make sense to me, it never has. It's always been—" Her eyes widened. She stopped and stared at Alistair and Velistara. "The representatives. I just had to tell them when to expect the dignitaries from various groups. That's how he knew when and how to replace them!" She sank back against the wall as her knees obviously went weak. "Oh, Maker..those people died because of me."

Her hand covered her mouth as she fought shock and emotional pain. Senistraz' roar sounded from the cavern, echoing slightly down the hall, and she quickly quieted the distressed dragon.

"Even if you had known their plans, which obviously you did not, Senistraz would still have been trapped. We can only do this now because if anyone had orders to kill her if something happened to him… they are now useless." Velistara comforted the younger woman. "But it does bring something to mind. We must find the family members of others, and learn what has come of those who were replaced. If all are dead, then we can proceed without concern. Perhaps the only reason why Senistraz is alive is because Blake would have felt her death, or at least sensed it."

"You've got a dark mind, my wife," Alistair told her, but it was said with a tone of appreciation for her intelligence.

"Pip thinks Coros will know." They'd almost forgotten he was even there, he was so quiet and spoke so rarely. He turned to Blake. "When does Blake see Coros again? Is there a schedule for meetings?"

"Thursday. He comes in when he's on the night shift, which is Thursday."

"So, today is Monday. It will be soon. The Parents should hide in Blake's room and wait for Coros to show up. Coros should be apprehended and questioned." Pip made it all sound so reasonable and easy.

"Very well," Alistair said. "I agree that we must know the whereabouts of the families—if they are even alive anymore. Until Thursday, we will all lay low and do our best to not let knowledge of this get out. If we hear rumors before then, we'll act."

They all went back to their respective duties then, each lost in thought. It would be a long few days.

Blake returned to her quarters, and then went to find Simon. He was nowhere to be found, but was thought to be on a patrol. She tried again in the evening, but he was again nowhere to be found. No one knew where he might be.

"Shirra, I get the feeling he's avoiding me," she told the Guardian with her.

"Maybe you're just reading too much into it. It's only one day. It could easily be coincidence." Shirra shifted and looked around. "I don't know his usual schedule, but the others are feeding their drakes right now. Perhaps he's just feeding Pip?"

They returned to the Mage section, Shirra returning to the Guardian lounge for those on duty to help escort mages should they desire to run errands. Blake returned to her own rooms.

She sat down and began to meditate, trying to clear her mind and her heart from the turmoil boiling in both.

She was wrenched mentally to another place, without warning. She suddenly felt as if she were staring into a scrying bowl, but was compelled to continue watching. She panicked until she realized she was watching Simon.

"No, Dugan. It needs to have glass scales."

"Do ye have any idea at all how much that'll cost? Have ye gone insane already, then? That's a crazy amount of work to get done in two days. I'll have ta give up everythin' else I'm doin'. That bein' if I can get the glass man to make the scales fer me at all!"

"I have every confidence in you, Dugan. And in the glass man."

"Simon, ye don't know what yer askin'. You can't know what yer askin. This is going ta cost ya several hundred gold—if'n we can even do it!"

"I do know what I'm asking. And a few hundred gold is not a problem at all."

"So yer rich, are ya?"

"I've never had to spend the wages I made as a toilet man, Dugan. I made something like five times the average wage, and I had room and board and even clothing provided. What was I going to do with all that money?"

"Buy a whore and some ale, boy! I dunno, something."

"Well, this is something."

"This is a ridiculous waste of money. Get yerself a sword or something! And how am I to fix all those tiny scales on there? Eh, Mr. Smarty Pants?"

"You're the smith. If you can't do it, I'll fly over to Denerim and ask someone there—"

"Bah! I'll do it. And ye'll never see a better staff made in yer life. You can be certain of that."

"Thank you, Dugan."

"What's it for, anyway?"

"Blake."

Blake felt herself start at the word. He was having a staff made for her?

"Ah, she's goin' to be mad at ye. It's too expensive."

"I won't tell her how expensive it is."

"Why ye givin' her a gift anyway, boy? I don't mean to hurt yer feelins', but I think it's clear she don't like being attached to ye, from what you've said."

"Because I have to help her see that, just because something isn't our choice, doesn't make it bad. She's never gotten to see that. We were orphaned in infancy. That worked out better than it could have. We ended up here, not sold into slavery.

"Then she was made a mage where she's only a few steps above being a prisoner, even if this is a thousand times better than the Circle of Magi. I was made the toilet man, and you can believe neither of us would have chosen either of those.

"But I got Pip. He wasn't my choice, either. But he has been the most incredible experience of my life. He taught me that just because a thing isn't what I'd choose, that doesn't make it bad.

"She got Senistraz, but then she was imprisoned and Blake was blackmailed. She suffered for yet another thing that was thrust upon her.

"I'm going to show her that not everything that happens to us without our choosing it is bad." Simon stood up and headed for the doorway.

"Yer gonna do that with a staff?"

"I'm gonna do it by wooing her, Dugan. The staff is just the beginning of it." As he walked out the door, Blake was jerked back to her own body.

She sat in stunned silence, blinking at the floor. She'd never had a vision of him before, but the one she'd just had rocked her to her core. His insight into her feelings, and his desire to show her something good in life touched her in a way she could never have anticipated.

She'd never been given a real gift before that wasn't for a holiday and done as part of the celebration. She'd never been courted or wooed, just threatened.

The realization that she was about to be broke something deep inside her. A section of the wall around her heart crumbled, ever-so-slightly as she laid down on the bed and cried her heart out.


	28. Reparation and Preparation

_This is not edited/ re-read yet. Will do it later today when I get up, heh._

**Part 28: Reparation and Preparation**

"My Lord?" Simon was surprised to find Alistair on the roof, sitting in the midst of the drakes.

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me 'Alistair'?"

"Sorry Ser. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Better than fine. Come, sit down." He patted the ground, and Simon slowly sat beside the elder dragon. "You know, Pip made me realize something. I've always been disappointed that my children are 'just drakes'. I saw them as mere animals, and I felt it reflected on me as a human being.

"But Pip has helped me realize a few things. One is that I'm also a dragon—with all that being a dragon entails. Including drake offspring. Another is that, even though they don't possess human intelligence, my children are unique among their peers. Feral drakes don't ever grow wings. They never get nearly big enough to carry a rider. They experience only rage and a desire for destruction or for procreation. They eat, have sex if they can, attack invaders, and eventually die.

"But Velistara and my children are special. They're symbiotic with their Riders. They mature fully, even getting wings. They're intelligent enough that they recognize me and they bond to their riders with a tremendous amount of love, trust, and loyalty.

"I haven't seen them as my children, because I still think of myself as a human being. So they've been animals to me, for all these years. To their riders, they're not animals. They're friends, confidants, companions. I never saw that. I never acknowledged that.

"This morning, I've been spending time with them, like a father with his children." His head turned and he looked at Simon, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I feel them, Simon. I feel their love and devotion. They don't speak, and their feelings are simple and uncomplicated… but they're strong and they're deep and they're real." He looked back at the drakes. "I'll never see them the same again."

Simon smiled. "I take care of them, you know. Even the other Riders don't like to brush them when they're molting or to change their straw. When I was working for Mathinas, sometimes it took me until two in the morning to finish it. Later at times, when it was cold and frozen. But they know it. They know me. They have protected me at times, comforted me at times. They may be animals—and I can't argue that they're not—but they're intelligent, loving ones."

"Are you still doing that?"

"Sure. It has to be done. Nobody wants to sleep on wet straw." Simon chuckled.

"Well, that's not going to happen. The Riders will take care of their own drakes from now on. You've got enough to do without being caretaker of the entire drake population of White Fortress." Alistair rose to his feet. "Why didn't you tell me you got stuck with all the work?"

Simon shrugged. "It never came up. And no one ever really seemed to do it, so I figured it was just something that I wanted to do, not something that was expected of anyone. I didn't like the way they were taken care of, so I changed it. Just seemed logical at the time, I guess."

"You've been doing this for a long time, haven't you? A little over ten years?"

"Yep," Simon answered.

"You know how I know?"

"No, no idea."

"A little over ten years ago, there was a slow, but steady change in the performance of the drakes. They have also grown somewhat—even the ones that were thought to be fully mature. They have all made progress in flight distance, flame output, size, and over-all temperament ratings. Mathinas took responsibility for it, but interestingly enough, when he first arrived, there was actually a strong drop in all areas." Alistair stood and stretched.

He turned and looked at Simon. "Do you brush the ones that aren't molting?"

"Yes," Simon told him. "They get dusty, and they like to have a quick once-over with the brush to get the dust off, and to stimulate their skin under the scales, I think."

"I think it's the time and attention they get. It makes them grow and thrive. Being kept clean, getting attention… they adore it. I can feel that well enough. There are going to be some serious changes around here. And the first will be getting rid of Mathinas and getting all of the families back together." Alistair started towards the battlements. He altered form and looked back at Simon. "Thank you for giving my children what I had not, Simon," he said mentally, and then leaped towards the courtyard below.

"And what do you think of it, Pip?" Simon asked him friend.

"Pip thinks that the Father is much older than most humans. If he were not, the Father would probably have gotten defensive and angry. Pip is glad the Father has made a better choice." He stretched and rolled over like a dog to let Simon brush his belly. He lifted his head and curled it, still on his back, to look at Simon. "Pip is proud of Simon and his care for the drakes."

Simon smiled and went back to his work. He finished and Pip dropped him off in the courtyard below. He had free time now since his first patrol was over.

"Dugan! How's it coming along?" he asked when he got to the blacksmith shop.

"Bladdy difficult, I'm telling you. Why didn't you pick something simple? You just have to have the hardest possible thing done? Is it to spite me for some injury I didn't know I did to ye?"

"Grumpier than usual, huh?" Simon crossed his powerful arms and watched the thick dwarf tapping the tiniest of hammers with the gentlest of taps. The dragon was nearly finished, and it was even more exquisite than he'd thought possible.

He walked over to what he knew was the shaft of the staff. Even he, who had no magical training at all, could feel the gentle hum of magic coming off of it. It would be a very potent staff when it was finished.

"She was happy enough to bind the magic to the staff, and I've put Blake's Squaminish name on there like you asked. When I finish this here up, she'll magic it all up to make the dragon unbreakable, just like you wanted. She's charging me a lot, though, cause she thinks it's taking time away from Senistraz."

"I'll take care of Abbie," Simon told the dwarven Smith. "You just get this staff put together, please. I want to give it to her by Thursday. I think this is going to be hard for her, and I want her to have something to hold onto."

Dugan grunted. "I hope she doesn't think you're tryin' ta buy her affections, Simon. Women're unpredictable varmints. You could find yerself with a staff ye can't use."

"That's her right. If she wishes to refuse it, I will not argue with her about it. She's had enough choices taken away from her already."

He left Dugan's shop contented with the progress of the work.


	29. The Dragon Staff

**Part 29: The Dragon Staff**

Thursday morning, Blake got out of bed, miserable and exhausted. She had still failed to deliver her apology to Simon, but to make matters worse, she'd had a vision of him that morning that had kept her abed quite late… and made her panic repeatedly despite being trapped in the vision.

He and Pip had been 'playing' with the other drakes. Hundreds of feet up in the air. Sweeping and diving and whirling and stopping and stooping. She'd seen hawks stoop on their pray before, tucking their wings in and plummeting at intense rates of speed, until they were right on top of their prey—grabbing, and then spreading their wings to take flight again.

It had always been breathtaking, but nothing like seeing man and dragon doing it. Especially a man and a dragon that she was doing her damnedest not to love…

She went down and ate at the cafeteria, not even sitting with Shirra as usual. She just sat down and ate, feeling withdrawn, worried, and stressed.

"Everything okay?" She whirled to find Coros towering over her in her sitting position at the table.

Remembering that she was supposed to be pretending she wasn't sure what was going on with Senistraz, she said simply, "Yes. I think so." She gave him an assessing look, and his eyebrow rose.

"Glad to hear it. I'll talk to you later." It sounded casual, but they both knew it was a threat.

Blake returned to her room. She paced. She read. She thought about going to Dwarf Town. Truth was, though, she was just anxious and stressed and didn't know what to do with herself.

She finally decided she would go look in on Pip and headed for the door. She flung it open to nearly get decked in the face.

"Simon!" she said to the surprised face of the man who had literally been reaching up to knock as she opened the door.

"I got this for you. I don't expect anything in return. I just want you to have it." He said it quickly, thrusting the staff into her hands, wrapped in a soft cloth with a bit of twine around it as a 'ribbon'. "Open it," he urged.

She untied the twine and began to unwrap the cloth from it. She couldn't wait to see it, based on the discussion she'd overheard.

The cloth fell away to reveal a polished cherrywood staff, topped by a wrought metal dragon. Her tail wrapped around the staff, curling down nearly to where Blake's hand would rest when fighting with it. The dragon's neck was arched, the spikes rising up from the top of the staff, her head tucked against her chest.

The spines that rose from her head were twisted and curled elegantly. They were multicolored glass that twined around each other, delicate and fragile. The dragon was silver, covered entirely in tiny flecks of glass that represented scales. The glass scales caught the light, as well as the swirling glass spines, and threw glittering rainbows around the room.

The dragon sparkled in the light from the mage lamps. She wasn't the gnarled, tired creature lying in the dark cavern, but a fully healed and recovered dragon, her flaws now the most beautiful of her features.

She wasn't gray, she was silver, but her strange, clear, prismatic scales gave her the appearance of being a constantly shifting, glowing rainbow.

Blake stared at it, her mouth hanging open in awe. Then she realized that her name was inscribed on the staff, as if being embraced by the dragon.

Her heart caught and she looked up at Simon—only to find that he was gone. He hadn't stayed to watch her open it. She went to the bed, her legs shaking, and sank down on it. Reaching up, she touched the dragon, and it was almost as if she could see the tenderness in its eyes.

"It's you," she thought to Senistraz, and felt the tears start.

"It is Senistraz as she will be, when she has recovered. Simon has always seen Senistraz this way."

"Is it accurate? Is that what you really look like when you're not stuck in a cave?"

"Senistraz is uncertain. Simon may have represented Senistraz, rather than reproducing her."

Blake suddenly smiled. "Senistraz, that's brilliant! He made this to reflect the beauty of who you really are in your heart, rather than your body. He wanted the world to see you the way we do!"

"Blake's idea is reasonable and makes excellent sense," Senistraz congratulated her.

Blake cried again, surprised at herself. She was usually so level headed and… well… reasonable. She tended to be rather practical and pragmatic. Being reduced to a tearful—albeit happily tearful—puddle was entire new to her.

She carried the staff with her as she went to find Simon. She managed to reach the roof in time to see him pulling on his armor and mounting Pip.

"Simon!" He was too far away to hear her. So, mentally, she called to Pip, "Don't take him away from me, Pip. So help me, I'll tweak your spines if you do!"

Pip turned to look at her, and she felt a wave of amusement come from him. "We do not have long. It is Pip and Simon's time for patrol."

"Simon," she began as she approached them. "I don't know how to say this. I… I just wanted to thank you. It's the most beautiful staff I've ever seen. It really captures the essence of who Senistraz really is. I will treasure it forever, and so will she. I'm so glad that others will get to see the beauty in her, even if not as directly as you or I do."

"Glad to know that I didn't upset you." He smiled. "I gotta go. We're late for patrol."

"Simon!" she cried at he and Pip turned away. As their head swung her way, she said, "I'm sorry."

He smiled, a quiet, simple smile, and the pair launched into the air.

"No unnecessary risks today, please," she said tartly to Pip over the growing distance between them. She felt surprise and then amusement, but he said nothing.

She sighed and went inside. Suddenly she realized that she had no friends. No one to show the staff to. No one to share the exciting news with. Then she smiled. Shirra would at least be able to understand and appreciate the staff, if not the larger knowledge of why Simon gave it to her.

She went off in search of the Guardian, and found she was on watch in the West wing. When she got there, she showed the other woman the beautiful staff. "Wow, Blake. That's incredible. And it's enchanted, as well, you can feel it humming from the enchantment. Where'd you get that? It's worth a fortune!"

"Simon had it made for me," she replied, biting off the explanation about Senistraz.

The Guardian stared at her. "Really? Simon the Rider? Oh Maker preserve me, he is so delicious! What I wouldn't give to have him give me something like this!"

Surprised, Blake stared at her. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Shirra laughed. "We all have the hots for Simon. Who doesn't? Big, blond, sweet… I mean, really."

"I didn't know you liked Simon."

Shirra looked over at the other Guardian, who was grinning, too. "I don't think there's a woman in the fortress except maybe the married ones—and they probably just won't admit it—who doesn't adore Simon. But he's always perfectly, completely polite. I think Corinne tried to poison Pip just so Simon would notice something else for a change."

Blake bit her lip. It wasn't common knowledge why she'd tried to poison Pip, though that she had done it, was.

What Blake found hard to understand and wrap her mind around was the fact that these women were agoggle over Simon. Somehow, the knowledge felt strange, unsettling, even alien. She didn't think it strange someone should find him attractive—she certainly found him so herself.

It was almost as if she suddenly realized that he had options. He had options and if it weren't for the bond between them, he could take them. She was acting like a child, refusing to even consider him, thus keeping him trapped with someone who didn't want him but yet unable to find someone else, either.

In some deep part of her mind, that was when she realized she needed to give him a real, fair chance. She knew he wanted to woo her, and as she walked back to her quarters, she unconsciously made the decision to even go so far as to try to enjoy it.


	30. Good Dragon, Bad Dragon

_I am again not editing/proofreading this yet. I'll try to go back tomorrow and get the last few done. Sorry._

_My hugest and warmest thanks to you who have been kind enough to take your time to review. It's thanks to you that I'm going to the effort to post even if they're not proofread. Thank you so much!_

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**Part 30: Good Dragon, Bad Dragon**

Simon went into the kitchens a few hours before the appointed time to meet with Coros. Since he was a Rider and could take anything he wanted for Pip, no one questioned him as he pulled some meat and bones out of the larder.

He took them to Senistraz, who froze them with a carefully controlled burst of cold flame. He put them into a covered box under the table so that they would be unnoticed. Then he came over and began to brush Senistraz.

"You've lost a lot of accumulation," he told her. "I think much of you is down to the scales now."

"Senistraz does not believe anyone else would have thought to remove her moltings. She did not even think of it herself. It is good that Simon is here. Senistraz' skin feels so much better every day." She butted him gently. "Senistraz is sad her spines are twisted, though."

"What? Are you kidding me? They're beautiful. The other dragons and drakes are going to want ribbons tied to theirs so they can look like you. Well, the lady drakes and Velistara, at least." He patted her on the shoulder. "You don't give yourself enough credit. When you can final stand direct sunlight, you'll see."

She sighed and rolled to her belly. "Senistraz already walks all the way to the other chamber. Abbie thinks Senistraz will make a full recovery."

"Of course you will. If anybody doubts it, you just send them my way. I may not be a drake mage, but I've been caring for the drakes for a long time. There's nothing wrong with you that time and exercise won't cure."

"Simon is too kind. Time and exercise will not straighten Senistraz' spines. Neither will it make Senistraz big enough…"

"Oh no, you're not going to go all 'Pip' on me and start gorging on everything you see to try to get bigger, are you?"

"Senistraz is a growing dragon!" she protested.

"Well, you might be a petite dragon, but what's wrong with that?"

"Dragon female is larger. Senistraz is not larger than Pip, but is older. Senistraz wishes to be a proper mate for Pip."

Simon started laughing. "Are you serious? How does the Dragon of Reason start acting so girlie? Pip won't ever care. I think Pip wouldn't notice if you were shit brown, waddled like a duck, and farted pig guts. He's even more oblivious than I am, and that says something."

She radiated deep amusement. "Pip did not warn Senistraz about Simons disgusting metaphors."

"He doesn't know. Don't tell him. He'd probably drop me on my head in shock. I think he thinks I'm as pure as the first snows. If he heard me talking about waddling like a duck, who knows if he would ever recover!"

This time, the amusement was so strong that, far away in her room where she was waiting for evening to come, Blake burst out laughing and didn't know why.

"Senistraz is ready. She will play her part."

He patted her and went back to check on Pip. Pip was ready. Simon went to see Alistair and Velistara. They were ready. Off they went to Blake's rooms, where they sat talking for an hour in low tones.

When they heard clanking coming down the hallway, they hid quickly against the wall behind the door. Coros pounded heavily on it, then opened it without waiting for a response.

"I'm to tell you that there will be no visit to your drake tonight. The representatives didn't show at the time you—"

He whirled as Simon shut the door behind him. "Oh, there's going to be a visit to Senistraz tonight, all right." Simon pulled his gauntlet off and slammed his fist into the other man's face, pulling his punch only because he knew that Coros was necessary—and Alistair—and thus Pip—would never forgive him if he killed the other man.

He ignored it as Blake and Velistara stared at him in surprise. Alistair was the only one unsurprised at his action.

"Thanks for leaving him alive," Alistair told him in a low tone.

He nodded and prodded Coros with his foot. "You and Blake will go into the courtyard and into Dwarf town as you usually do. You will follow her, like the obedient, protective, caring Guardian that you are only pretending to be. You've pretended this long, you either pretend this, or I'll get my wish and I'll get to kill you slowly and with great suffering and pain."

Coros glared at him in hate as he wiped blood from the corner of his split lip. He spat a tooth out and coughed. "You'll pay for this. You'll see."

"Get going before I forget that I'm not supposed to kill you right here and now." Simon reached for his sword and Coros scrambled to obey.

He jammed his helm on his head, picking it up from where it had fallen with a glare at Blake. Then he made a sweeping 'you first' gesture towards the door.

Simon followed him with Alistair and Velistara at a distance. They would stop here and there to pretend to look at goods, as Blake was doing. Then they let the pair go when they saw Dugan.

From Dugan the next group of dwarves took over. In the meantime, they cut ahead so that Blake and Coros met up with them. Simon shoved Coros away from Blake and all pretense was dropped as Coros was herded the back way into Senistraz' chamber.

She lifted her head, and he blanched. She growled at him, obviously restraining herself from a roar only by sheer will. Hate radiated out from her.

For the first time, she spoke, with obvious effort, in a human way. "I remember you. I will take great pleasure in eating you."

He went whiter still, if it were possible, and made to flee. He met up with the point of Simon's sword and backed away. He ran into the pole that had been bolted to the ground specifically for the purpose.

He was immediately bolted to it, facing the irate dragon. His head was strapped back against it, so that he was forced to see her, and couldn't look away. She stood on wobbling legs, showing him the ribs that poked through her skin under her scales.

"You took such good care of me. I should return the favor," she still stumbled over the human speaking, but gamely went on. "It's the least I can do."

Then she took a deep breath and blew a single puff of cold flame onto his body. He was frozen up to just below the shoulders in an instant. She let the rest out right in his face, showing him that she could have frozen every bit of him easily.

She slowly lowered herself back onto her bed—now a mass of pillows.

"So. We have some questions for you," Alistair told him. "I suggest to you that you answer them, and answer them well.

While he spoke, Simon quietly went and retrieved the box from under the table. He set it down softly behind Coros as Alistair went on.

"We want to know where the family members are. The ones being held by Mathinas as blackmail."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Mathinas—"

Velistara stepped up in front of him. "I suggest that you tell him, Coros. He is the Dragon of Justice. You would do well to remember exactly what kind of Justice you earn by keeping those people further hostage."

"He's not going to do anything to me. Everyone knows you won't let him." Despite his precarious situation, Coros smirked.

"Well, there's a problem with your logic," Alistair told him. "You see, she doesn't get to choose in this case. The case for Justice has already been made. She may be able to keep me from torturing you as you genuinely deserve—"

He held us his hand as Velistara began to object. "I did promise, dear. I haven't forgotten. Only if he won't cooperate, I know." He pecked her on the cheek.

"But all of those people, no doubt also starved and half-dead… possibly raped, likely beaten… that requires Justice, Coros. It really does. That is a job for compassion when it comes to the victims, it's true." He turned to Velistara, once again making placating gestures.

Then he turned back to Coros. "But the perpetrators… Now, they—that's you—are the domain of Justice. So I'm going to ask you one more time, where he's keeping the family members he's using as blackmail."

Coros laughed. "You're not fooling me. You won't hurt me. I've heard the stories about you."

"I don't think he's going to cooperate," Alistair told Velistara.

She pleaded with Coros, but he spat at her. She sighed and stepped away, waving Alistair back over to him.

"So, shall I take a kneecap off?"

"Go ahead," Coros told him. "Mathinas would kill me. You can't do worse than he would. You don't have the stomach for what he would do to me."

"Very well," Alistair said. He came over and leaned down where Coros could no longer see him. Lifting up an axe, he chopped off a piece of frozen bone from the box. Standing up, he gazed at it, turning it this way and that, as if admiring it. "So that's what a kneecap looks like. Don't worry, you're frozen, you won't feel a thing—for now. It's gonna hurt like a bitch when you thaw, though."

Coros stared at him, his face pale. "You'll just put it back and heal me," he said. He didn't sound completely certain. "Mathinas wouldn't. He'd just kill me."

"You think so?" Alistair asked. "I guess you've got a good reason to believe that." He tossed the knee-cap shaped bone through the air. Velistara caught it with a powerful 'snap!' of her jaws and wolfed it down.

"No!" Coros screamed it, a pathetic wail that cut through the cavern.

Alistair got in his face. "Now you listen to me while you've still got one good leg left. You're going to tell me where those people are!" He bent down and hacked off a hunk of meat, throwing it through the air. "There's part of your calf. You want the other leg intact, start talking!"

"They're at the Farm!" he yelled. "Okay? They're at the Farm!"

"What in the Fade is the Farm?" Alistair demanded. Coros hesitated, and Alistair bent down on the other side, as if to take off another kneecap.

"It's a cavern behind the cattle barn! When he had the new barn put in, Mathinas found a cavern behind it! There's a secret entrance at the back of the last stall—the one they never use. Okay? Please! You gotta protect me from him! He'll torture and kill me!"

They relayed this news to Pip, who told Fordir. Fordir went to check with Darin. They reported back that they had found the Farm. The force of dwarves, riders, and White Wardens that they'd assembled from those they could trust poured into the back cavern. After a brief battle, they took the cavern.

"Your intel was correct. You can live." Alistair said.

"Would you like the rest, Senistraz?" Velistara asked.

"Yes, please," the dragon responded.

Simon picked up the box of meat and upended it in front of her, and she devoured it.

"You tricked me!" Coros yelled.

Alistair walked over and stuck his face right into Coros'. "Yes we did. And it was easy!" he laughed and high-fived Simon.


	31. Reunion

**Part 31: Reunion**

They went to the "farm" to check on the people who had been held there. Many needed a healer, some were even near death. Sadly, there were also some corpses in the back of people who had died, some identifiable by their belongings and some nondescript.

In the meantime, Alistair sent some of the men to go find Mathinas. They had sealed off Dwarf Town before capturing Coros, so it was simply a matter of locating him.

Alistair warned that the cave not be mentioned to anyone until Mathinas was in custody.

"Alistair, we can't find him. The entire complex, and even Dwarf Town has been searched. We can't find him."

"Call an assembly in the courtyard immediately. We need to find out where he is, and someone is bound to know."

Simon nodded, and some time later, Pip informed Alistair that the assembly was ready, flanked on all sides by people that Simon and Darin considered to be more likely to be loyal. Mostly people who had been harmed by, or had refused Mathinas' attempts to blackmail or manipulate them.

Alistair stepped up in front of the crowd. "Some of you have had loved ones who were taken hostage by Mathinas," he began. "We have found where many were being kept. There are, sadly, some who have passed. At this time, we offer this to everyone in this courtyard. Both a gift, and a warning.

"All of you who have performed evil deeds at Mathinas' behest, provided they were minor infractions, are considered pardoned. Those who killed or raped, or otherwise committed great harm, will still be held responsible. As things come to light, they will be judged based on an individual basis.

"Those whose families were being held may approach myself, Velistara, or Fordir. An accounting of everyone held in the caves has been taken. Full pardon is allowed for those whose families were held—but those with serious infractions are hereby exiled, out of compassion for the victims, who suffered regardless of the circumstance. Because you did not come to us and confide in us and trust us, you did horrific deeds, and exile is less than you deserve for not having the courage to come to us.

"We want this put behind us. Now. Anyone whom we doubt will be put to the test by Pip, who is the Dragon of Loyalty." He ignored the gasps and the whisper of conversation that ran through the crowd. "Be aware that anyone caught harboring or hiding Mathinas is hereby subject to immediate execution. This will not be tolerated, even a little bit."

"Please come talk to one of us whom you see up here, should you wish to tell us anything. Know that we will not hold it against you if you turn Mathinas in immediately. If he has your family hostage at home, tell us, we will find a way to free them."

He waved his hand towards the barn. "I know that many of you here are missing family members. Go into the barn and see if yours are there."

Nearly a third of the crowd broke and ran towards the barn. From inside, there were immediate shouts of joy and recognition.

"Go about your business, people."

He sighed and covered his face with his hands. Life felt suddenly very burdensome.

"Pip has something he would wish to speak to the Father about." Pip's voice came to him inside his mind.

"Can it wait, Pip? I'm exhausted."

"Pip is uncertain if it can wait or not," came the answer. "Pip would like all with the Father to come to speak with him."

Alistair told the others, though Velistara had already gone into the barn to help those inside face the suffering—or loss—of their loved ones. So Alistair went up to the roof to land beside Pip. When the others arrived, he shifted. "Okay, Pip, what's this all about?"

Pip's head turned to him. "Pip may have misunderstood some of what Pip thought he knew. Pip thought that Senistraz was a drake while she was subjugated, and that she had died. Pip thought she was dead because she registered to Pip as a void, a blank.

"Pip would like to inform you that there are five more such voids, and Pip does not know if they are alive or dead…" he paused a moment, '…dragon or drake."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Alistair asked.

"Pip was not certain and did not know for sure, so Pip said nothing."

"How could you not know?" Alistair realized he was being unjust. "Never mind, that wasn't fair, I'm sorry."

Pip's head turned towards Alistair. "How did the Father not know he cannot lick his elbow?"

"What? Yes I can."

"The Father cannot lick his elbow. No one can."

"I can!" Alistair objected again.

"It is impossible, but the Father will try anyway. Every human will try, even if told it is anatomically impossible."

By this time, Alistair, Simon, and Darin were trying.

"Alistair?" He looked over to find Velistara standing at the doorway from the Fortress, staring at him strangely.

Caught with his tongue out, Alistair froze and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Straightening, he shrugged. "Nothing."

She turned to look at Pip, who was radiating an air of smugness. "Pip?"

"Pip did nothing." Pip's spines bounced slightly, as they often did when he was amused.

Noting that she was looking away, Alistair tried one more time—very quickly.

"Alistair!" Velistara scowled at him. "Whatever are you doing?"

"Did you know you can't lick your elbow? It's impossible."

"Really, Alistair? Really?" She shook her head. "Bedtime, children." She said it with a somewhat indulgent grin.

She stopped to look at Pip. "Really, Pip?"

He laid down with a draconic grin.

When she got to the doorway, she tried it herself. And, of course, failed.

"HA!" came from Alistair inside the fortress stairwell. "You can't do it, either!"

They ran chuckling down the stairs with their friends-and trusted advisers.

Over all, it had been a decent day. Though for the moment, Mathinas eluded them, they had found and reunited many people. They each settled into their own sleeping areas with a feeling of accomplishment.


	32. Frustrated Expectations

**Part 32: Frustrated Expectations**

Blake saw little of Simon for the next few days. There was much activity in the fortress and in Dwarf Town, and he was kept very busy, as was she. Senistraz reported that he came to her every day, but not at a regular time.

So Blake spent those days wondering if Simon was going to follow through on his promise to court her or not. Sometimes she was able to tell herself to just be patient, to just calm down and relax and that he was just busy.

As the days stretched by into nearly a week, though, she began to fidget. She began to spend more and more time with Senistraz, hoping to catch him in one of his rare rumored appearances there.

But her existence was still not common knowledge, so Blake had to put in appearances around the Mage Quarters. Shirra had been allowed to know about Senistraz, and she was forced to remain with Blake at all times that she went to visit Senistraz, and Blake recognized it was unfair to the Guardian to continually keep her locked into a dark, dingy cavern.

Which was somewhat unjust, really. They had put in torches so that the cavern was lit all the time. Braziers were kept burning so that it was warm and dry, as well—caves tending as they did to be cold and damp.

Other changes had happened, as well. The dwarves who knew about her seemed to have developed a deep love for her. They brought pillows for her bed, usually brightly colored and exquisitely decorated. Wall hangings, plush and bright made their way to the cave. Statues, some huge and some small, also made their way there.

One dwarf even, upon seeing the simple iron braziers, went off stomping and growling. A couple of days later, braziers were brought in, the iron ones were dumped into the new, ornamental, regal braziers; and then the dwarves left without a word.

Chairs for visitors came, plush and soft, and jeweled toned seemed to show up overnight. A new table was brought, heavy stone with dragons carved into its heavy legs. Floor coverings, some deep and silky, some flat and coarse enough for wiping debris off of one's feet appeared until the first cavern was filled wall-to-wall.

It wasn't a dingy cave at all. In point of fact, it was the most richly appointed place in the whole White Compound and its extended support outgrowths. Yet, it was tucked away and had few visitors beyond the dwarves, who tended to come in and drop something off and simply walk away. Their gruff abruptness had taken getting used to.

So it wasn't all that hard for Blake to spend copious amounts of time with Senistraz. But Shirra was a very social person, and dwarves, Abbie, and Blake soon bored her. She would restlessly pace the second cavern at times, until Blake would take pity on her and return to the fortress.

So that Friday, they were going back out through Dwarf Town when Blake saw Simon. He was talking to Hollyanne, one of the 'minor celebrities' of the Mage Quarters. Blake headed towards them, but then realized they were doing something very intimate—they were looking at cloth together. Not just any cloth, either. They were looking at the most expensive cloth in the store.

Blake stopped to stare, watching as Hollyanne firmly vetoed something Simon picked up. He put it back, obviously reluctantly. Blake agreed with Hollyanne, the bright green was ugly, but that wasn't really the issue… they were looking at cloth together!

She turned on her heel and started away.

"Wait up, Blake!" Shirra admonished. "What's wrong with you?"

"Hollyanne and Simon, when did they start seeing each other?"

Shirra's eyebrows shot up and she grinned. "So you do have the hots for Simon!"

Blake sent her an angry glare.

"You're misinterpreting what's happening."

"Yeah. Because men go look at cloth with just any old woman."

"No, seriously, you're misinterpreting it. And I doubt Hollyanne would appreciate knowing you called her 'old'."

Blake marched back to her room, ignoring Shirra entirely. Simon couldn't find time to even greet her, but he was doing things like cloth shopping with someone else? Anger blazed through her, making her stomp up the stairs and slam her door without even caring that this time Shirra had followed her all the way, rather than stopping at the lounge.

"You're misinterpreting it!"

Peeved, Blake threw a pillow at the door. A few minutes later, she heard Shirra clanking away.

What Shirra didn't get was that the interpretation didn't matter. Another woman was getting Simon's time and attention.

Well. She was attractive enough. Men noticed her. Maybe if another man noticed her, Simon could find time for her. If not, at least it would be nice to have someone, somewhere, notice her—besides Coros the lech.

So she pulled her standard robe off and unbound her breasts. Immediately, she realized she would need to go to the clothier's for a new chemise that would hold her breasts properly. Well, she wasn't going to wait. What if Simon saw her in the meantime?

She immediately realized her problem. Without the binding, her breasts tried to pop out the top of her robes—all of them. Growling with frustration, she bound them again and went into Dwarf Town.

She arrived at the clothier's to find Simon and Hollyanne now there. They were bent over a table, looking at various patterns. As she stomped past to go talk to the dwarven proprietor, she noticed that they were robe patterns. He was picking out a robe for her?

She tried hard—very hard—not to stomp as she walked up to Carri, the seamstress. Speaking briefly with her, she followed as she was led into the back, where Carri began to measure her. They spoke in quiet tones, but even from back there, she heard Hollyanne and Simon's low whispers.

"What is she doing here?" That was Hollyanne, though Blake could only barely hear it.

"I don't know! She's usually… well. She's usually busy right now. We have to put these away before she sees them!"

"No, that'll be too obvious. Just try to be casual. We'll cover them up with some men's cards."

"Should we leave and come back?"

"No… do you want to look suspicious, or are you just playing dumb?"

"Hey!"

Blake didn't even try to hide from Carri that she was eavesdropping. When they began to scuttle around, she went back over to the dwarf—who was standing with hands on her hips giving her the 'shame on you' glare—and pulled off her robe, unbinding her breasts. Softly, she said, "I want a chemise and robe that fits properly—and looks sexy. Can you do that? Right now?"

Carri walked around her, looking at her from several perspectives. "I can modify one, but it will have to have another color of cloth added at the bottom, because I'm out of the cloth it's made from."

"Do it, please." They were still whispering, so Blake raised her voice. "Thank you."

Carri bustled out, then back in a few minutes later, stopping to tell them, "I will be with Lady Blake for a while. If you need me, please call for me." Then she slipped inside and started fitting her for a chemise. The robe she had found was pretty, very decorated, but definitely too short. It was also quite wide, and Blake realized it had been made for a short, heavy woman.

It was an hour before the robe and chemise were finished, in part because Carri was juggling her time between the pair in the other room and Blake. But at last, it was finished, and although it hurt to do it, Blake paid the exorbitant price required for the personal and immediate service.

When it was finished, she looked herself over. Her breasts still tried to spill out the top, but in a sexy, sensual way, not as if she were trying to cut off her breathing. The robe was serviceable, but it also hugged her curves in a way that made her blink in surprise.

Carri told her in a low voice, "I've been wanting to do that for years. No woman as beautiful as you are should have her breasts trapped like that. Maybe now you'll go see Mikkey. She's been wanting at that hair as long as I've been wanting to make you a real robe in your proper size."

Then she bustled out of the room.

A slow, satisfied smile crept over Blake's face. She hadn't thought of the hairdresser… but now that she did… well. She had a next destination.

Taking a deep breath—now that she could—she strove for 'regal' and walked past Simon and Hollyanne. She nodded and made no other acknowledgement as she left the shop. But she hadn't missed the very masculine, very surprised look of pure appreciation on Simon's face.

She'd seen something like it before on Coros—but on Simon it had an entirely new effect on her. By the time she reached the hairdresser, she was nearly giddy. And that despite having to fend off several rump-pinching dwarves along the way.

When she left the hairdresser's shop, her hair was down and gleaming, cut up to fall down to her shoulder blades rather than her waist. It bounced and flowed around her shoulders as if as happy to finally be freed as her breasts were.

In the clothier's shop, Simon and Hollyanne had nearly finished their task. "Are you sure she'll like this?" Simon asked.

"She will love it. I will make it to her new specifications," Carri told him. "You must go visit her very soon, Simon. She misunderstands you being with Hollyanne."

"What? She does?"

Carri nodded at him.

He groaned, "Oh no."

"And don't be a man—actually compliment her!" she called after him.

He scowled. Of course he would compliment her. As soon as he could figure out what to say that wouldn't make it sound like he was just a horny bastard. Just because he was one at the moment didn't mean he needed to admit to it by saying something obvious and stupid.


	33. Old News is New News

**Part 33: Old News is New News**

"You know," Darin told Alistair, "the more I speak with some of these people, the more certain I become that Mathinas wasn't the head of this operation. They keep saying that he would say things like 'The Liberator's plan' or 'The Liberator thinks…' and such."

"Who's 'The Liberator'?" Velistara asked.

"Well, that's the thing. Nobody knows. But, those who mention it seem to think it's a woman, but they don't remember why—except perhaps he called her 'she' from time to time."

"So we need to start looking beyond Mathinas." Alistair looked pensive. "Despite the fact that we've not even found him yet."

From behind them came Simon's voice as he walked in the door, late to the meeting, "There are other people missing, not just Mathinas. I think there's another hidden entrance somewhere. I'd like permission to inspect some of the buildings he had installed. He made a huge number of alterations and excavations. Well beyond what is recorded officially."

"Really? Where did the funds come from?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"I think this is something bigger than simply a man who didn't like you. This seems like some kind of larger operation or infiltration. And I think it's time we consider the possibility that it's bigger than just the White Orders, also."

"You know, Simon, life hasn't been boring a single day since you bonded Pip," Alistair told him with a sigh.

"Let's keep our eyes and ears open and learn all we can. Simon, you go ahead and look around. Keep up informed, though, please. I don't want you to disappear and us not know where you are."

"Will do, My—Alistair, Ser," Simon agreed.

He left, deciding to put off his exploration of the Guardian barracks until later in the day. While it was new to them that there was another person behind the scenes of it all, he doubted it would change today… nor would the barracks magically go away.

So he headed for the Mage Quarters with a package under his arm. He passed the lounge and saw Shirra there, so he picked up the pace. If Shirra was there, it was likely that Blake was in her rooms or at least somewhere on the wing.

He knocked and waited. When she finally opened the door, she was wearing her new robe, and he focused on not staring at the wrong spot…

He held out the package. "Hi Blake. I wanted you to have this."

She stood looking at him, and he started to feel deflated. Slowly, he let it drop.

Then, for no reason that he could tell, she grabbed it out of his hands with an angry jerk. She walked over to her desk and started yanking the twine to open it. With a sharp, uncompromising jerk, she pulled the cloth off of it.

The robe he'd had made for her fell from its confines onto the floor. She picked it up, then stopped and stared at it, open-mouthed.

"Hollyanne helped me pick colors, and good cloth that could be enchanted and spell-woven. And Carri and Hollyanne chose a pattern. But I wouldn't let them make one that was too ornate. I hope that's okay. You don't strike me as the ornate clothing type."

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. "Hollyanne knew this was for me?"

He shrugged, confused. Had he done something wrong? "Well, of course. How else could she help me pick out colors and cloths?"

"Shirra knew?" She was looking angry again…

"Yeah. She was supposed to help keep you from catching me at it."

She crossed her arms, glaring at him openly now. "Carri knew, of course…"

He didn't answer. That one was obvious.

"Not one of them told me? How—"

"Really? That's fantastic! I had to have so much help that I figured someone would let it slip."

She stared at him a moment longer. Then she held up the robe. It was beautiful, leather combined with thick, warm cloth. It, like the staff, hummed ever-so-slightly from the magical enhancements and protections woven into it.

"Simon," she said then. "This is so beautiful. I've never owned anything so fine, except the staff you had made for me."

Then she dropped it onto the desk and ran into him, wrapping her arms around him. He blinked in surprise for a moment, but then encircled her and pulled her close, leaning forward to smell the sweet scent of the shampoo she used on her hair.

She looked up at him, and their eyes met. Simon, despite his desire for Corinne and for Senathin, had never kissed a woman. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. He tangled his hand in her rich, honey-blond hair and lowered his lips to taste hers.

He was surprised at the intensity of his reaction. His breathing grew ragged, and tense excitement flowed through his body. Her lips were soft, warm, inviting. She smelled like bliss and tasted like the purest rainwater.

He ran his hand across her back, using that one to pull her closer, while his other hand held her head gently. He stroked his tongue across her lips, trying to remember the things he'd overheard and read about how to kiss. When she parted her lips, he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

He struggled to stay dry and not give her the dreaded 'wet kisses' that the guys all claimed terrorized women into never kissing a man again. He tried not to be too aggressive and tried not to give the impression he wasn't interested.

But now that it was happening, and he was kissing this beautiful, amazing woman, he kept getting distracted by her taste, the feel of her body pressing against his, the heat of her, despite the clothes between them.

He dragged himself away from her mouth, panting and barely in control of himself.

"I'll see you tomorrow at noon in the Dragon Lair," he told her, and walked away.

'Always leave them wanting more' he'd been taught. If she was wanting more—and he hoped she was—she wasn't the only one!


	34. Interim

**Part 34: Interim**

The next few months passed quickly. Pip and Senistraz began to say that "something [was] coming." When pressed for information, they could only express that it was real, it was large, and it was very evil. Senistraz felt fearful, Pip felt aggressive.

Pip tried to dig the hole in Senistraz' roof larger, which upset the dwarves to the point where they chased him out and took it over. The work went swiftly, and soon Senistraz would be able to climb out of it whenever she chose. The drakes soon began to come, sometimes going into the chamber above to whistle and coo down to her like doves.

The Darkspawn intrusions continued to increase, to the point where some days there were as many as five or six in Dwarf Town per day. There were a scattered handful that happened within the keep's courtyard, though none had burrowed into the keep—yet.

A great schism arose within the ranks of the White Order. Those who had been blackmailed by, or joined in Mathinas' treachery found themselves ostracized. A demand began to arise for a new option to the White Order or only the Circle of Magi or Chantry. Alistair and Velistara tried to quell the growing discontent, but found that the more they tried to ease the tensions, the worse they got. Many families emigrated, even some mages or Guardians preferring the Circle or the Chantry.

Many of those who chose the Circle soon found to their dismay that their decision was irreversible. This generated a fair amount of tension between the Circle and the White Mages.

The Chantry, however, used the Guardians mercilessly. The defections soon ceased as those who left the White Order for the Chantry began to die in exceptional numbers. None were assigned anything less than the most dangerous tasks, and even that only after a firm Lyrium addiction had been established.

Simon continued to search for a way that Mathinas could have escaped from the Keep, but so far had found nothing. He also began serious training with Alistair in Templar abilities, so that he could escort Blake without a Guardian always with them. The Standers, seemingly of their own accord, had become Pip and Simon's guards.

Rumors about Senistraz had reached a peak, and there was much discussion of allowing people to know about her. But Abbie argued that she should take her first flight and experience direct sun first. So for the moment, she remained an official secret, despite the widespread rumors about her—which had not actively been discouraged once the other families had been freed.

But all was not bad. The short highland Spring broke over the mountain. Simon's attempts to woo Blake became less catastrophic. Though that came about more through Abbie noting to Blake that if she wanted Simon to be suave and competent at dating, she should send him to some other women for more practice first. It seemed that, overnight, Blake's appreciation for being taken on dragon rides—despite her fear of heights—grew by leaps and bounds. Not to mention his constant use of other women to help him figure out what would make her happy.

Velistara had clutched again, and the eggs lay close to hatching in the incubation chamber. This time, there were not only Guardians, but attendants whose sole job was to walk among the eggs and keep them in the sun, speak to them, and keep them clean. These were all Riders, though. The elders were the ones usually chosen, so that they would feel useful, and so that no one was removed from other necessary duties. It was a happy compromise for all.

Simon had begun to have strange dreams of a black dragon. They had become frequent enough that he finally brought it up one day as he and Blake were playing a game of modified "fetch" with Senistraz.

Simon rolled the large leather ball, and Blake used magic to keep it going, just ahead of Senistraz as she trotted between the now-massive chamber. There remained no split between the two chambers any longer, and it had been enlarged enough that Senistraz could trot a short ways in it.

"So she's to go out tomorrow, huh?" Simon asked Blake.

"Yes. Everyone thinks she's ready. She has even been flapping in here in order to strengthen her wings. She's looking so much better, even sparkling somewhat in the torchlight.

"Abbie thinks she's adjusted enough that small doses of morning or evening sun won't hurt her eyes."

"I wonder if the dragons have aspects in the Fade like we do," Simon said, trying to find a way to bring up his dreams.

"Dragons have even stronger aspects in the Fade than humans," Senistraz answered. She stopped chasing the ball to turn and look at Simon. "Senistraz wonders why Simon wants to know. Simon is discomforted."

He sighed. "I've been seeing a black dragon in my dreams. She seems to be calling out to me to help her. I dunno, it sounds strange, I know. But I can't shake the feeling that she's real. But I never get more than a glimpse and a feeling… like she's trying to communicate with me, but from far away. Like she's blocked or something. It's weird. I shouldn't have mentioned it…" he trailed off, realizing he had rather alluded to Senistraz' own lengthy imprisonment.

"Hmm, have you tried to respond to her?" Blake asked.

"Yes, but she just gets further away."

"I don't know what to say. But if there's a dragon out there that needs help, we need to find a way to find her."

"Perhaps if Pip were to help him enter the Fade, it might increase his lucidity while dreaming," Senistraz interjected.

Pip's mind voice came to them collectively. "Pip is willing to try tonight."


	35. Where Dreams May Take Us

**Part 35: Where Dreams May Take Us**

Simon, worried more for his door than anything, came to the cavern to sleep that night. He didn't sleep in the guest quarters the dwarves had carved into the cavern's outskirts, but rather simply slept between the two dragon. Since Pip had taken to sleeping in the cavern with Senistraz, it made sense to be there anyway.

Simon had learned his lesson with Pip and the door.

So he lay between them on the near-mountainous bed of pillows. But before he could fall asleep, he felt himself pulled into a vision of Blake. She was dressed for sleep—Simon cursed his luck at not being a moment sooner—and sat reading her mother's diary. She then paced restlessly before pulling on a heavy "public robe" over her nightwear and walking to the library.

He watched her select a book and head back for her quarters, when the vision ended. But as he felt the similar disorientation of leaving what he called the "scrying" to go back to his nest with the dragons, he was wrenched abruptly and cruelly in a different direction.

He felt as if he were being ripped apart. Every inch of him screamed with pain—even though he had no body to feel it with. He was shuffled and battered and tumbled, seeking his voice with which to sob and weep in his terrific agony.

Then he dropped, burning, onto a broad plain. He stood up, and found the flames instantly gone. He stood before the dragon who had been calling to him. She lay as if tormented, flame rising from her, her head stretched towards him.

Around her, in the distance, was an army. He could feel them advancing, but they seemed so far away that he recognized they held no immediate threat. So he turned to study the dragon before him.

"Save me, Simon. You must find me and save me." She sounded desperate, agonized. "I'm so sorry to bring you to this place, but I have little choice." She shifted as another ripple of agony broke over her, and he realized she was laying eggs.

"Yes," she told him. "Eggs created without a mate, without a flight. Like a feral high dragon, not like… one of us."

He moved toward her, seeking to find a way to release her.

"You cannot help me in the Fade, Simon. You must find me. You must destroy these heinous offspring." Another ripple of agony, a bright blaze of flame. Another egg.

Suddenly he felt himself being ripped away again, torn and violated and stripped. Her mind-voice echoed after him, "Save me, Simon, even if it means killing me. Fate must not remain in the hands of a monster!"

And then he was on the pillows, shrieking and stumbling off of the bed to vomit forcibly and painfully onto one of the poor rugs covering the floor. Within moments, Alistair, Blake, and Velistara entered the room; followed a moment later by Darin and Fordir; who were then run into by Dugan.

"She's real," Simon choked out. "She's real and she's being used to grow drakes. I think… I think she's the dragon of Fate." Then he vomited again, still trembling and unable to stand.

Blake brought him water and a bucket to wash his face with. As he rolled over onto his back, she laid another cloth across his forehead, which he pressed against his head in relief. "Thank you, Blake." She smoothed his hair back, and he looked at her in the gloom of the remaining lit torches.

He sat up then, slowly, and looked at Pip. "You had to call everyone in the whole White Fortress—and Dwarf Town?" he asked the dragon.

Pip's spines clipped against his head and he had the grace to look contrite. "Pip could not help. Pip was worried. Senistraz was worried. Pip did not call Blake, Senistraz did." He said it as if to indicate that he hadn't called absolutely everybody…

Senistraz poked him with her nose hard enough to knock him over. Pip dragon-grinned at her.

Simon realized that Blake was still wearing the robe, and even had the book in her hand. "Wow, that happened fast, you're still holding the book."

Blake gave him a strange look. "Yes, I'm still holding the book. Which I'd be happily reading if it weren't for you."

"There was something else," Simon went back to the subject at hand. "Well, two other things, really."

"Someone's using her for breeding. They're breeding her to feral male drakes. She wants us to find her and destroy those eggs. She'd rather die than produce another clutch, this was absolutely clear to me."

"And what else, as if that's not enough good news?" Alistair asked dryly.

"The Darkspawn. They're coming after her in massive numbers. And I think they're in Dwarf Town so often because they're coming for Pip and Senistraz, as well. If they reach any of them, we'll have another Blight—worse than any we've seen before, because even Senistraz, as the smallest dragon, is double the size of any of the Archdemon drawings I've seen."

"But Senistraz and Pip are bonded to riders!" Velistara objected.

"Yes," Simon agreed. "But there's something missing, and I don't know what it is. The Darkspawn still hear them. And they're coming."


	36. Exposure

**Part 36: Exposure**

The next day, Senistraz ended the stalemate. She summoned everyone to the plateau above the lair, where she stood and watched as the first rays of the sun broke the horizon. "Senistraz will not lie in the darkness to await the Darkspawn," she said simply. "She is done waiting for others to reach their comfort zone with her being out of the lair."

As the sun topped the horizon, it bathed the world in red and orange. As its first rays touched Senistraz, she was likewise bathed in orange, so that she looked for a short time, as if she were a mirror image of Pip—as did Velistara and Alistair in their dragon forms.

It was a spectacular sunrise, and even as she gasped in surprise, they all turned together to watch it. It went from red, to orange, to pink and purple. Then the sun broke through the clouds entirely.

Blake gasped. "Oh, Maker. Senistraz." She reached out a trembling hand, and Senistraz turned to her. She laid her hand on the dragon's muzzle. "You're stunning." She could barely speak.

Senistraz was covered entirely in glass-like scales that glittered with rainbow colors. Her twisted horns were pearlescent as well, swirling with color. She was magnificent, shimmering and glowing even more beautifully than the other dragons.

Everyone stared at her, amazed by her sheer, fundamental beauty. In every way, she exactly resembled the spectacular dragon on Blake's staff.

Blake's eyes flew to Simon. "You knew!" she accused.

He blinked. "Well, sure. I told her when I first met her that she was beautiful."

"But she was gray. She was…" she turned red. "I'm sorry, Senistraz. I should have been the one to see that you were beautiful."

Senistraz nudged her gently. "Blake has always seen Senistraz the same as when she first saw her. Senistraz has waited for Blake to lose her fear, but now she knows she should not have."

Blake hugged her, and then stepped back with a smile. "She wants to fly," she said.

"Blake is not ready. Senistraz knows this." Senistraz looked at her.

"I don't need to be ready," Blake told her.

As Senistraz stepped up to the edge of the plateau, Blake turned into Simon's arms. He held her as Senistraz prepared to launch off of the edge. Those assembled all knew that this was a terribly dangerous moment. Senistraz was too big to be caught. If she leapt off and plummeted, she could not be saved as a young drake could be.

She gathered herself, and then leaped hard into the sky. Her wings strained, and for a heart-stopping moment, she lost altitude. Simon's arms tightened around Blake as the others gasped.

But then Senistraz caught the air and lifted. She flew awkwardly, lumbering in a small circle before landing roughly on the plateau, stumbling to fall on her shoulder. But she scrambled to her feet without help, retaining what dignity she could.

"Senistraz' wings will require strengthening," she announced, but there was pleasure and excitement in her thought.

There was great celebration that day, and Senistraz insisted that she be announced within a week.

So it was done. She had strengthened enough to make a graceful, but strained flight all the way to the roof of the fortress on cue as they announced her and told the story. She landed, looked down on those assembled at the courtyard and roared, a resonant, ringing roar that made the walls tremble.

"I give you…. Senistraz!" Alistair shouted, his voice echoing on the tail of her roar.

Cheers rose, starting slow but growing and growing in intensity. The shouts of joy at the presence of the beautiful dragon rose to roll over her like music.

The next day, the humans, like the dwarves, began to make minor pilgrimages to her lair, bringing her gifts, including flowers and even wall hangings. The most notable gifts, however, were the great number of books that were brought.

The pilgrimages began slowly, but word spread, and people came from the areas around simply to catch a glimpse of her. She spent much of her time on the plateau, so there were people going around the cavern and up the steps the dwarves had carved into the stone nearly all day long.

They all wanted to see what was now known as "The Pearl Dragon." She took their fascination in stride, little concerned about those who came in great part to gawk and to say they had… or to posture to prove that they could afford to do so.

The dwarves were less pleased with the influx at first, until they found that all of these travelers needed supplies, repairs, and that most popular of all pastimes—ale. They grudgingly accepted it, but they created an area intended for human habitation.

The simple truth was that the dwarven areas were considered by most humans to be uncomfortably small. So a new thriving segment of the city arose, yet still it simply retained the name of Dwarf Town.

A small, makeshift human city rose up outside the entrance to the labyrinth, anyway. Many shunned the dark corridors of Dwarf Town, and so Margarite—a name that means 'Pearl' rose up at the base of Soldier's Peak beyond the labyrinth. It seemed to happen overnight, many houses going up within just a few weeks while yet others began preparations for their own.

It was quickly discerned that this city would need its own government. Poor Darin was chosen for interim Mayor.

The first Darkspawn attack on the town came less than a day after he arrived. With a death toll of five, it was immediately apparent that the town required a fighting force. When volunteers were requested to move to the town, the question was asked… would they be serving Alistair and Velistara, or would they be serving Senistraz and Pip?

Shrugging, Alistair responded that such a decision was their own right to make, no one else's.

And so was born the first regiment of Margarite… the Pearl Hilt; followers of the Dragon of Reason and the Dragon of Loyalty.


	37. Discovery

_I want to take a moment to give super huge thanks to everyone who continues to read and review! I'm very grateful, and a special thanks to Warrose and alyssacousland who I chat with outside of the stories, as well. _

_Thanks a ton to every one of you, though!_

_I wish I had more time to post more, but trying to squeeze story time in is taking a lot right now, much less being able to chat and such more. So I also appreciate everyone's patience when I don't manage to get to replies and whatnot as quickly as I really wish I could._

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**Part 37: Discovery**

Simon was once more marching through the barracks Mathinas had added. They were on the opposite end of the excavated courtyard from the labyrinth, and tucked up behind the solar-heated incubation area. He kept coming back there in his search, despite the fact that he had searched it and searched it repeatedly already.

This time, though, Blake and Shirra were with him. They wandered, and Simon half-heartedly knocked on the walls, but they were nearly all stone, so it was relatively pointless.

Finally, seeing Shirra flirting with one of the Guardians, made a shooshing gesture to Blake and pulled her aside. Glancing at Shirra to make sure she was still preoccupied, he grinned and pulled Blake into the broom closet.

Turning to her with a grin, he began to stalk towards her. In mock fear, she scrambled backwards deeper into the closet, but she had nowhere to go. Now openly smirking, he took his time getting to her. Giggling, she tried to dart past him and he grabbed her, pulling her against him.

"Now that I've gotten you away from the dragonlady, I'm going to ravage you," he growled in mock threat.

She pretended to swoon, and he dragged her against him for a fierce, passionate kiss. He found himself lost in her lips, in the feel of her body beneath his questing hands. He wanted to pull her up and wrap her legs around him and completely forget that he was a gentleman.

She felt so warm, so welcoming that he forgot where they were, and that it was supposed to be a quick kiss. His legs felt weak, he wanted to… Oh, the things he wanted to do!

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she tightened her grip on him, keeping his lips glued to hers. He groaned in frustration at the clothing—and heavy plate armor—between them. Stepping her backwards, he trapped her against the wall, so that he could keep her firmly against him while his hands ran up and down the sides of her body.

Leaning against the wall, he started to raise her skirts, wanting to feel the softness of her skin.

Then the wall gave way and they were tumbling into empty air. Blake, despite her usual rather stoic nature in the face of danger, shrieked. He yelped in surprise as he struggled to turn in time to not land on her.

Rushing soldiers sounded from outside the closet and suddenly there was many times more light than the moment before, when the door had been open only fractionally.

Shirra's irritated voice came from the now open doorway. "Very funn—" Her eyes widened in shock. "Maker's breath! You found it!"

Simon turned to look and felt his blood run cold, then roar into a surprised rush. Ahead of him stretched a natural cavern. At the other end, it had been cleared so that it was high enough to walk through—though the work was shoddy at best.

Dusting themselves off to the best of their ability, despite the fact that some of the dirt on them was mud, Simon and Blake peered into the darkness.

"Pip!" Simon thought. He knew Blake was doing the same to Senistraz. "Pip's asleep," he said out loud. Then he tried Alistair, who didn't respond, so must be in human form. Velistara was obviously asleep as well—she was carrying eggs again and was unable to transform to human form at the moment.

"PIP!" he mentally shouted. At his sleepy, half-coherent reply, he showed him the mental image of the broom closet and the tunnel beyond. Instant awareness flooded his mind. Pip could contact Alistair even while he was in human form, so it wasn't long before Pip rushed into the room.

The guardians all stared at Pip, since it was, at best, exceedingly rare to see him in human form. Simon had had a robe made for Pip, so he was properly attired. It was simply that he was an unusual sight, and the Guardians present would be able to tell others what he looked like—which was a big deal around the White Fortress and especially in Margarite.

But everyone, including Simon and Blake, were staring in surprise at the woman beside him, who could only be Senistraz. She was pale, and tiny. Her hair was white like Velistara's, but it shimmered with color, as if it, too, were pearlescent like her scales. Her eyes were lavender like Simon and Blake's.

"Senistraz attempted to copy you," she said to Blake. "She did not do well, but Pip says that while she would be unable to hide in a crowd, Senistraz looks acceptable. She borrowed an old robe of Abbie's."

Simon looked at Pip, then back to Senistraz. "Are you certain you feel comfortable with this? It's your first time in human form, and this will probably be terribly dangerous."

"Yes, Senistraz is sure." Her voice brooked no compromise or refusal.

"Acceptable?" Simon glared at Pip. "You are as beautiful a human as you are a dragon, My Lady."

Alistair came pounding into the room. "You really found it?" Then he screeched to a halt. "Whoa! Senistraz?" At her nod, he blurted, "You're gorgeous! You look so much like your mother, I—" His eyes filled with tears and he grabbed her in a hug. "I'm so proud of you. You've been through so much, yet you're going in there with us to rescue your sister." He set her down then and cleared his throat. "You're amazingly strong, and I'm so proud to be your father."

He turned to the others. "Who's got the torches?"

"Er..." Simon said.

Alistair sighed. "No torches? What are you waiting for?"

"I think we ought to bring Dugan at least," Blake said. "The dwarves are best in this kind of environment, I think."

So Alistair asked Velistara to call up Dugan and ask him to bring whomever and whatever he felt appropriate for exploring dangerous and possibly treacherous unexplored caves and tunnels. Oh—and torches, too.

Some time later, Dugan showed up with three diggers, the unofficial leader of Dwarf Town named Pauliette, and a master digger named Gillim.

They all set off into the tunnel, torches in hand and Gillim leading the way.


	38. The Sound of Music

**Part 38: The Sound of Music**

"Acceptable, Pip?" Simon asked, holding him back behind the others and speaking in a low tone. "Did you really tell her she looks 'acceptable'?"

"Senistraz asked if she was acceptable in her human form. Pip said 'yes'!" he replied defensively.

Simon sank his forehead into his hand in dismay. "What were you thinking?" he hissed at his dragon friend's human form.

"Pip answered the question," Pip replied. "In case Simon did not notice, Senistraz is missing her long, elegant tail. She is missing her bright, sparkling scales. She has no spines at all!"

Simon gave Pip a disgusted look and then looked up at Senistraz. "You're right, Pip! She looks very human. Such lovely round hips. Such smooth, soft skin. Such long, flowing, glorious hair. How true, she's an acceptable dragon, but what a magnificent human!"

Pip turned to glower at him.

Simon raised an eyebrow at him.

Pip turned to look after Senistraz. Then he sighed. "Pip was unkind."

"Yeeeeah…" Simon said. "But wait until later to fix it, or it'll seem insincere. And give her a kiss, too."

"Kiss? The wet, slobbering mouth thing that you do to Blake?"

Simon grinned. "That's the one, Pip. Don't knock it til you've tried it!"

He moved up to walk beside Blake again, leaving Pip to trail a bit behind. Soon Pip had caught up, and Blake was holding Simon back.

"Did you tell him he was mean to Senistraz?" Blake demanded in a low hiss.

"Yes. But not quite so bluntly," he said with a grin.

"I can't believe he told her she was 'acceptable'!"

"Well, in his defense, she asked if she was acceptable, and he said 'yes'," Simon defended his friend.

"Who would have thought that dragon men are as stupid as the regular ones," she said. From ahead, Shirra started laughing.

Simon snickered softly as Pip and Alistair said, "Hey!" together.

"Now who's mean?" Simon asked her with an arch smirk.

She stared at him with hands on hips. "Well, Senistraz is my friend."

"Pip is your friend, too," Simon said. "He didn't mean it the way it came across. We men may not always say things in the right way, but we're honest about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"See?" Simon said. "There you go, right there. I meant what I said, and nothing more, but you're reading all kinds of things into it."

"Now I remember why I don't spend time with humans," Gillim told Dugan.

"Too much fun for you?" Shirra asked.

"Too crazy," he answered with a grunt.

With a generally improved mood, they continued down the tunnel. Simon gestured to Pip to hold Senistraz' hand. Then he took Blake's in his own. Pip frowned, and Simon gave him a direct, 'just do it' sort of look. With a soft sigh, Pip rolled his eyes and moved up to take Senistraz' hand.

Simon was pleased and deeply amused by the poleaxed look on Pip's human face when Senistraz looked up at him with a huge smile as he took her hand in his.

As they progressed in, Gillim and Dugan stopped to chat for a moment. Gillim and the diggers continued while Dugan dropped back a bit. "We're going downwards. Someone's been diggin' in these tunnels, but they ain't done very well." He moved back up, his duty of informing that the tunnels were inhabited complete.

It was no surprise, but it was ominous to hear it said out loud. The buoyant mood was lost at this terse announcement, and they continued down the tunnel with hands hovering near weapons.

The first real signs of activity came in the form of feral nugs. The sound of them scurrying away and the sight of their droppings warned of human habitation ahead. The fact that this was the deciding fact that this was the first clue was a poor sign for the state of the inhabited areas. Even in caves, nugs would only thrive in areas of filth—one of the reasons they were hard to find in most dwarven settlements.

Simon suddenly noticed that he was hearing something else, as well. 'Stop' he signaled. He tilted his head, until he realized that it wasn't an external sound. "Do you hear that?" he asked softly.

"What?"

"I can hear Pip and Senistraz' songs, and Alistair and Velistara's. But I hear another now, too. Softer, higher." He whispered it, hoping the others might be able to hear it, as well.

They stood in silence for a few moments. "Pip hears nothing new," Pip said. "Only Senistraz, the Mother, and the Father."

"I hear it," Blake whispered. "Soft, faint."

"I have a song?" Alistair asked.

"Of course. I can't hear your thoughts when you're in human form, but your music never fades even then," Simon told him.

Blake agreed and Alistair looked shocked. "I only hear Velistara," he said, his voice somewhat disappointed.

"Pip only hears Senistraz," Pip added.

"Senistraz hears Pip." That was Senistraz. "Blake and Simon hear all dragons?"

"I thought everyone could," Simon said with a shrug.

"I hear them all, though the black one only seems to appear to Simon," Blake said.

"Pip thinks this is because Simon has had more practice with telepathy. Senistraz and Blake did not get to talk properly." He patted Senistraz awkwardly as he saw the sad look on her face at his words. Then he pulled her close when she looked about to cry.

Similarly, Simon cradled Blake as she looked away and obviously fought her emotions.

Alistair waited a few moments before he asked, "Can you sense a direction?"

"I think this way," Simon said, pointing left.

"There's a branch that way a ways ahead," Gillim said. "It looks safe enough, despite the humans' horrible stonework."

"Let's go that way, then. I'm less worried about capturing anyone as I am about freeing that dragon," Alistair told the dwarf.

They headed up the damp, cold, dirty passage towards… they knew not what.


	39. Crowded Spaces, Familiar Faces

**Part 39: Crowded Spaces, Familiar Faces**

It seemed to the humans to be hours as they crept along. Increasing signs of habitation continued to crop up, but the further they went, the more disgusted they became. Discarded clothing, piles of filth and even dung came into view.

On the up side, they knew this meant they were getting closer to their destination. Which made them ever more cautious. Unconsciously, they all found themselves slowly enclosing Senistraz, circling her protectively.

If she noticed, she said nothing. Blake, however, did notice, and realized that all of them—including her, still saw Senistraz as the weak, helpless dragon chained to the floor in the cavern. She knew, but couldn't help hovering protectively, despite the fact that she had a solid certainty that Senistraz might well be the most dangerous among them.

Because, alone among the dragons, she could direct her cold flame to such a degree where she could freeze a single person, or even a part of a single person.

Regardless, they still gathered around her protectively, a bristling mass of armor around a delicate, fragile… deadly….center.

Then they went around a corner and straight into a nest of feral male drakes. Unlike their cousins, the children of Justice and Compassion, these drakes were small and had stunted, undeveloped wings. They would live longer, but they would never develop beyond what would be considered pre-adolescence in the White drakes.

This, however, didn't decrease their aggressiveness in the least, and they rushed towards the group en masse, grunting and whining as they sought to tear limb from body. They were dispatched with great speed, facing a group of dwarves and a solidly armed mass of humans.

There were eggs in the room, as well. The party went around to each and every one, destroying them with brutal efficiency. These, Simon was certain, were Fate's eggs. And as she had asked, he would destroy them all.

Not one was left to survive the coming days.

Strangely, they next time they encountered trouble, it was Darkspawn. There were a lot of them, and by the time the fight was over, Simon was nursing a wound that Blake didn't have power left at the moment to heal. He limped over to her, cradling the broken arm and favoring his right leg.

"That was a Fading lot of Darkspawn," Alistair said, wiping blood and sweat off of his brow. "What are they doing here? And why isn't Mathinas clearing them out?"

No one had an answer, which of course, he expected.

They got up and moved on when everyone was recovered and injuries were healed by magic. But there was a set grimness in them now that hadn't been there before. Coming so near to Darkspawn and being almost overwhelmed—despite the presence of two extremely powerful dragon mages and a dragon-Templar-Champion—had dampened spirits and raised their alertness level.

They moved down more and more crudely altered passages, some with debris still lying around from poorly-executed excavations. The Darkspawn kept cropping up in small bunches, a state that increased their discomfort level by significant amounts.

Then they turned a corner and found themselves face-to-face with humans. The small, obviously harried band stared at them with obvious fear and apprehension. There were women and children here, most of the children wan and pale—it was obvious they'd been born here and had never seen sunlight.

There were obviously armed adults standing around, and they all immediately reached for weapons, but didn't attack.

"Wait!" a voice said from the rear of the group, hidden in the gloom. As the speaker stepped forward, they were surprised to see a familiar face. It was the Stander who had first aggressively refuted Simon's right to Pip, so many years ago!

"I don't know if you remember me—"

"I remember," Simon said, his voice glacial.

The man sighed. "I was afraid of that. I'm Sammiel," he continued. "I've been protecting these people from the Darkspawn for some five or so days now. We've been here for months, though, and we're running out of food. We grow mushrooms, but they're not meant to be our only food source. We've killed all the nugs we could find, and…" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look," he said, spreading his hands in open appeal. "I know you have no reason to help us. I know you have every reason to strike us all down. But at least please help the children. None of this is their fault." He visibly fought tears.

Alistair sighed. "Remain here, let us speak together for a few moments." He gestured and the group came with him, including the dwarves as he stepped back to have a private discussion.

"I think getting them out is the right thing to do. We're not going to pardon the adults at this time. Maybe after talking to them, I can't say right now. But we can't leave them here to be prey to Darkspawn, especially the women, and obviously the children. But taking them back means a significant time set back. Not to mention that we don't really have the forces to do so safely. Splitting up is risky. Not splitting up means leaving them here or all going back. None of these possibilities really appeal to me."

"Well, there's only one way out," Simon said. "And that's into the barracks. Inform Velistara, and she can have Guardians waiting for them."

Alistair's head cocked to the side, and they knew he was speaking mentally with Velistara. "Alright. I guess that's going to have to do it. But the state these people are in, I'm very dissatisfied with this solution. If they encounter a large number of Darkspawn, it will no doubt go very, very poorly."

"We can only hope that there aren't more digging up through," Simon said. "Even if we went with them, there's no guarantee."

Alistair sighed. "I don't like this. At all. But I cannot figure out an alternative."

No one else had a better idea, either, so they turned back into the room.

"We've cleared out the Darkspawn and the drakes on the way to the entrance. There, you will be greeted by Guardians and taken into custody," Alistair told Sammiel.

"For what it's worth, I regret what happened, and I regret falling into this trap," Sammiel said on his way past them. "I'll get them to safety now. I'm sorry," he said the last to Simon.

"Sammiel," Simon stopped the other man. When he turned to look at him, he said, "I want you to meet Pip, my Dragon. This is his human form."

Sammiel looked at Pip, "I owe you an apology as well, then."

"Pip has long since forgiven for his own part," Pip told him. "It is good to hear Sammiel apologize to Simon, though."

Sammiel nodded and herded the terrified group of women and children towards the entrance to the secondary labyrinth.


	40. Time Warp

**Part 40: Time Warp**

The droves of Darkspawn continued to increase as they went deeper into the heart of the mountain. The fights became a sort of constant chafing to the group. The closer they got to the source of the black dragon's music, the harder it became to make forward progress.

They received word from Velistara that Sammiel and the group of refugees had made it without incident, even without encounter. It made the going easier, at least, to know they had saved some of the people trapped inside the mountain.

But the danger continued to mount, and tempers were short from the tension. Eventually, it all came to a head, and Pip and Simon began to argue.

"We should go left, come in behind them," Simon argued.

"The direct approach is best. We cannot know how many there are, so we need a direct view of—"

"That's exactly why we should come up behind and have the element of surprise," Simon broke in. "If we don't know how many there are, we can't go blindly rushing in—"

"Are you guys arguing… again?" Blake snapped at them. "Can't the pair of you do anything without arguing about it first?"

"We're not arguing, we're strategizing," Simon objected.

"No, Pip is strategizing, Simon is arguing. As usual."

"Your strategy sucks!" Simon glared at his dragon friend. "Who ever goes running blindly into a mess like that? You admit that you don't know how many there are, but—"

"This requires boldness. These petty peons will respect nothing less than a show of total brashness and—"

"So we go look first to see how many there are, and then we put on a show of bravado," Simon argued. "And if we do it right, we can position the dwarves to create rockslides and do away with some of them, maybe," he continued, crossing his arms.

"I think you're both insane," Gillim told them.

Dugan laughed. "Ye should see 'em trying to decide what the Bronze Order's armor should look like. Like two lil' kids bickering over a toy."

"Well, fine, what do think we should do, if you're so smart?" Simon growled at Dugan.

"Send someone on up there and let them take a look, o'course," Dugan said. "Then decide. Cain't never run into something unprepared. Ye should know that, ya beast," he said, slapping Pip's shoulder.

"Fine," Pip said, "but Pip can sense the size of the cavern, and there can't be that many people in there unless they're wall to wall and standing on each other."

"Really? You can do that?" Gillim asked.

Pip nodded. "Pip has an affinity for the mountains. Pip does not know why."

"We're running out of time," Blake said. "I think Pip may be right. It might not be the wisest tactical choice, but Fate's song is getting weaker by the minute. I don't think she's dying, but she's unquestionably suffering. We've got to do something to help her."

Simon sighed and threw his hands up. "Fine. Fine! We'll just rush in there."

"No," Alistair told them, the first time he'd spoken since the conversation had started. "Gillim, is one of your people a rogue? I want to know what's going on in there before we go in."

"Yes, Ser," the dwarf responded.

He sent the digger sneaking in to see what was happening. No one asked why a digger was also a rogue—life in Orzammar was hard, and some questions weren't worth asking, anyway.

It wasn't long before the man was back. His explanation of what he'd seen was terse. "Woman chained in the back. Looks like she's Darkspawn tainted, maybe. I ain't sure. Ten or so soldiers, look like Standers and Guardians, a couple o' rogues. Two blood mages, else I miss my guess. Mathinas and a woman I don't know are arguin'. Gray drake, little one, chained up in there, pumpin' out eggs as we speak."

"Not a drake, a dragon," Simon corrected him.

"Anywhere you can come up on the sides and create a rockfall or anything of that nature, quickly and easily?" Alistair asked.

"Negative. Both tunnels come in from below, not above."

Alistair nodded and motioned everyone forward. They moved carefully, until they came into sight of the first portion of the room. Chained to the back wall was Corinne, her hair matted and her eyes wild. She was crooked, bent over as if gnarled by some invisible force. It was clear she was in an advanced state of taint.

Then Simon saw the other woman the digger had mentioned, arguing with Mathinas. It was obvious the fight had escalated, as he shook a fist in her face.

"Senathin!" Simon cried. "Get away from her, Mathinas! I'll see you dead before I let you harm—"

Senathin started laughing. "Oh, look. It's sweet little Simon come to save me from my husband. How touching!"

Confused, Simon stopped and stared at the pair, who were looking at him with matching expressions of amusement.

"Really, Simon? Can you really be that naïve?" Blake asked.


	41. Mental Resistance Check

**Part 41: Mental Resistance Check**

Senathin laughed. "Oh, he can be that naïve, believe me. And more." She walked down from the poorly carved stone dais she was standing on with Mathinas. She was dressed in a sensual robe, looking strangely elegant in the midst of such perverse filth. Slinking down towards them, she gestured the soldiers back with a wave of one elegant arm.

She looked like she had stepped out of the Royal Court during a high Ball, into this dark, dank, stinking cavern. She looked almost regal, and Simon through it was somehow fitting that she should be standing thus in the middle of Darkspawn and dirt.

"The elf who would be Queen," he said, suddenly understanding. "How does it feel to rule over filth, depravity, and misery, Senathin? You never were content to be one of us little people."

Instead of responding with anger, she practically purred, strutting towards them. "Now Simon. You never were a little person," she looked him up and down in a way that made his skin crawl. "And you don't have to remain the servant of these… these sycophantic so-called 'Dragons'. They kowtow to the King, they cater to the Chantry and the Circle of Magi, despite the fact that any and all of those despise and use them."

She turned to glare at Mathinas when he made as if to say something. He subsided.

She strolled across the cavern, stopping near the moaning head of the inert dragon chained to the floor. She squatted down, lifting the dragon's head by a spine. She dropped it in disgust, standing and looking at Simon. "All this worthless creature has produced so far is feral drakes that can't fly. But I've forced the taint into her, as I did to Corinne. This batch will be different." She rose to her feet. "The taint is building up in her. It's hard to walk the line to keep her from turning entirely. It was a close call a few weeks ago."

Simon realized that this was probably the moment Fate had managed to get through to him—she had been on the edge of falling to the Darkspawn taint and it had given her the power to contact him. He saw the dwarves slowly fanning out, the rogue inching along to get behind Mathinas.

"But she's bonded to you, she shouldn't be able to get tainted at all." He tried to keep her talking to get the rogue into place.

"That's not the case," she said, a smug look crossing her face. "I don't know why they don't come after Alistair and Velistara, though I suspect it's because they're weak and pathetic, thus not good enough for even the Darkspawn. But they've been working overtime to try to reach this one." She kicked the poor dragon in the head, and Simon compulsively grabbed his weapon.

He heard others behind him doing the same.

"Oh, stop," she said arrogantly. "She barely even felt that. She's popping out eggs—that hurts a lot worse than what I did. Besides, when I want her to feel it, I whip her."

"Why?" Simon said. "Why are you doing this? Just because you didn't want to be a servant? I would have married you and taken you away from that, I—"

"Marry you? A pathetic nobody scrabbling in the shit day after day?" She laughed. "I wanted you to get me an egg. I tried to seduce you so you would do anything I asked of you. But you… you are grotesquely stubborn and obtusely stupid. I as good as asked you, I appealed to that savior attitude of yours… and still, you got a drake and rather than bring him to me, you took him for yourself! Who would have thought you would be so selfish. You, of all people."

She gave him a disgusted look and said, "You're a born martyr, always saving someone or helping someone," she waved her hands in front of her in a mocking gesture, sneering at him. "Teaching the poor little pathetic elf to read. Petting the poor ugly, useless egg. Coddling the poor helpless little dragon. Brushing the fucking drakes until the pit of the night, because the poor widdle babies itch." She rolled her eyes in obvious disdain. "You're pathetic. A waste of space and air. Entirely useless in your eager stupidity. I knew how to read, you pathetic jackass. I was gaining your trust so you would help me.

"But noooo… you helped everyone but me!" She clenched her fists and stared at him.

She turned and walked back towards Mathinas. "But then this Shem came to me with a proposal. The Chantry thinks the Dragons violate the divinity of the Maker. The Circle of Magi is losing mages to your White Mage Order." She turned back to face them. "They don't like you. They don't like this place.

"They wanted us to create division and to help destroy the dragons. It was simple, really. Easy to do, as people are so easily manipulated. Take their families, and there's nothing they won't do to keep them alive." She laughed.

Then her face twisted into rage. "But you, Simon. You were the perfect person to help with the final plans to destroy the eggs. None should have hatched at all, if you hadn't been so bloody fucking stubborn, stupid, and useless. You had free access to every part of the castle. People actually," she gave a half-chuckle of incredulousness, "they actually went out of their way to ensure they didn't notice you! They actively focused on dismissing your very existence. There wasn't a place you couldn't have gone, right up to walking into the incubation grounds on a daily basis."

Her façade of nonchalance gone, she walked back over to the dragon. "Like this worthless creature, you defied me at every turn!" she shouted. Then, she kicked the helpless dragon again.

Simon had heard enough. He raced across the room towards Senathin. She casually pulled the staff off of her back and cast a paralyzing spell on him. He stopped mid-run, unable to move.

Battle erupted around the room. Alistair rushed to the disabled Mathinas as the rogue went to work finding every seam in the stunned, gasping man's armor.

Pip returned Senathin's favor, while Fordir moved up to Cleanse the magic off of Simon.

With a rush, Simon leaped for the frozen, paralyzed Senathin. But he soon realized that it would be him and her, as more men rushed from a side cavern to join the fray. It wouldn't be as simple a fight as they had hoped.

Even as he reached her, the spell holding Senathin lapsed, and she quickly threw a glyph at her own feet. He stopped short of it, using his own Cleanse to knock it off of her. She smirked at him and cast another one—she had effectively caused him to use his Cleanse on a minor glyph.

Growling in frustration, he circled her, then finally tested the glyph. As soon as he touched it, it knocked him flying backwards. He would have to wait it out. So he switched over to using his bow, even as she cast a firebolt at him that left his skin screaming in pain. A choking cloud of death then swarmed over him, and he shift to move out of it, gasping and choking before turning back to fire more arrows at her.

But he could feel weakness setting in as was again consumed by magical fire, superheating his armor and causing him to gasp and choke—and still he couldn't get close to her. He circled, realizing that he was on his own. The others were swarmed by men in Guardian gold and Stander red.

He saw the bright circle around her subside, and moved in to attack her. He found her covered in a magical barrier that prevented him from striking as directly as he wish—what he really wanted to do was to end the battle as quickly as he could with a well placed strike.

He felt a Heal wash over him, and he sent a heartfelt, albeit silent Thanks to Blake. But he knew she had to be flagging—even she only had so much power to draw on.

He cried out, insinuating his voice with magical force, knocking her down and interrupting her as she tried to cast something at him. As she shook her head and started to rise, he slammed her again, this time with the shield he held. She lay stunned for a moment, her chest heaving.

Then she stood up and began to cast again, and Simon found weariness dragging at him so completely that all he could do was swipe at her a few more times with his sword, trying to regain his breath from his exertion.

She completed her casting, her eyes glittering at him. He felt agony tear through him, and he could barely breathe as his body felt flayed from the inside out. He felt her inside his mind, crawling around like some hideous, insidious beast. Lethargic and taunting, her thoughts whispered at the back of his mind as his blood boiled in his veins. The agonizing pain tried to distract him from the insidious whispers that told him that his friends—even his dragon—were his enemies.

He fought to ignore the pain, focusing on the creeping lies that distorted everything around him. "I. Will. Not. Bend!" he shouted, suddenly released from her attempt at mental control. Yet even as he fell forward, the horrific agony of the spell screamed through him, burning through his veins with an unquenchable fire.

Darkness surrounded him, and he saw her laugh, then begin to cast again. As he began to fall, knowing that this was at last the end, he felt Pip's desperate fear claw at him, trying to keep him there, trying to tear him back from the Fade.

As if from a great distance, he watched in seeming slow motion as the dragon lying on the floor gave a sudden, unbelievable leap that belied the weak state she was in. She lunged so hard that the chain holding her head broke loose from the floor, and Simon watched in strange detachment as the dragon's maw opened with aching slowness as she lunged towards her captor—and her bond-mate.

With a twist that seemed to Simon to take forever, she wrapped her mouth full of vicious teeth around Senathin's head…. And bit it off. The dragon, snapped back by the chains that bound her, flew backwards, the head dropping to the floor, while blood geysered from Senathin's body as the heart failed to realize that it had just been fired.

Then Simon saw the floor rising in a strange undulation to meet him. His last thought was that it was only because he was bonded to the Dragon of Loyalty that he hadn't been mind-controlled, and he'd rather die than become Senathin's puppet and kill the people he loved.

Then there was blessed darkness, and he fell through the void to land roughly on the same vast landscape where he had met Fate before. Pain flared through him, and he lay there gasping.

Then he cried, bereft and isolated.

He could no longer feel Pip.


	42. Fate's Fate

**Part 42: Fate's Fate**

Alistair heard Pip's cry of pain and loss, and turned to see Simon topple forward. He saw Blake rush towards Simon, he saw the others still locked in battle. He knew in his heart that only one thing would make Pip respond that way.

Simon was dead. He felt a deep-seated horror flow into him. He could only guess at Pip's terrible pain as Simon's soul was ripped away into the Fade.

Alistair realized belatedly that he'd allowed himself to become distracted. But it was too late. He turned back to find Mathinas' sword coming straight at his heart. It was too late. All of his regrets crashed in on him in that instant, and he realized it was true—even if you were over a hundred years old, your whole life flashes before your eyes in that microsecond before the final, fatal blow.

A blow that, for Alistair, never came. Because in the fraction of an instant before the sword flew home in Alistair's heart, Dugan was there. In an act of self-sacrifice unparalleled in Alistair's life, Dugan leaped in front of the sword meant for the very heart of Justice.

Alistair found himself staring at the sword tip that had penetrated Dugan's eye, sliced through his brain, and exited out the other side of his head. With a snarl and a jerk, Mathinas yanked the sword back out. Even as Dugan toppled to the ground, Alistair's own sword whipped out and bit deeply into Mathinas' own chest.

Death found the heart of betrayal, instead of Justice. Thanks to the loyalty of a dwarf, and his willingness to throw down his life. For he could not have missed the knowledge that it was a death sentence to leap as he did.

Alistair cried out in rage and sorrow as he yanked his sword from the chest of the man who had betrayed them all.

Then he dropped painfully to his knees beside Dugan's body.

Dugan was dead. He could not be revived. He could not be healed. Gillim and the other dwarves came to begin wrapping him up in his cloak.

"Go, see to Simon," Gillim said. His voice was thick and gruff, and Alistair knew the stoic dwarf was crying.

He clapped him on the shoulder and slowly moved over to where Blake knelt beside Simon, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. Pip was on his knees where he had finished his fight, kneeling in a puddle of blood, weeping in Senistraz' arms.

"No, no, no, no," Blake cried over and over and over, like an endless litany. "I should have healed him. I should have found a way," she sobbed.

When Alistair pulled her into his arms, she clung to him. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this! It wasn't supposed to be like this! We were supposed to get married. We were supposed to have children. We were supposed to grow old together." Her voice broke and she wept too hard to speak, simply gasping out "No, no, no" over and over again as she trembled in Alistair's arms.

"Please, just let me wake up," she begged. "Let it all be a dream."

"Father," said the prostrate drake, dragging him from his sorrow and malaise, a malaise compounded by his distant wife's agonized mental cries.

"Yes?" he asked, choking on the word.

"You wish atonement. For letting this happen to me. For letting this happen to him. Do you not?"

He sobbed. "Yes. But nothing can atone for this. Nothing!" He pulled Blake closer, as if he could draw the sorrow and loss out of her and into himself.

"I can save him. I can draw him back from the Fade. But I, and I alone, can do it." She told him. "But there must be sacrifices."

"What sacrifices?" he asked.

"I must bond again. Being bonded to a monster turned Fate to Tyranny. If I am to be Fate once more, I must bond with someone else."

"Me!" Blake broke in with a broken sob. "Bond with me!"

"I cannot, dear one. You are bonded already. I cannot bond with the Father, for he is the Patriarch. It must be another. And whomever it is, will lose everything for the duration. It will be pain and loss…" her voice weakened and trailed off.

"I will do it," Shirra stepped forward. "I will do it," she said again, kneeling in front of the weak, frail dragon. "I will give you peace before you die." She caressed the dragon gently.

"I thank you. It is for that goodness in you that I sought you the first time. I was seeking you when she found me and forced me to drink her blood," the dragon said. Then she lunged again and bit Shirra, licking the blood away.

"Now, Father."

Tears ran down Shirra's face as she felt the suffering of her dragon bond-mate. She cradled her head as the Dragon of Fate spoke again.

"Do it now, before it is too late!" Her voice rose in intensity. "Strike, damn you!"

With an agonized sob, Alistair lifted his sword. With a choked cry, he drove it into her brain.

Her breath whispered out in a sigh, and Shirra screamed in deepest, heartfelt loss. She sobbed, rocking over her dragon's head, cradling it and weeping brokenly.

Fate rocked through the void, landing roughly in the Fade beside Simon. "Hold on, dear one. This is going to hurt!"

She grabbed his spirit between her silver jaws and threw him with all her strength. He shrieked as the winds of the void sought to tear him apart, and then he was back in his body, thrown roughly back to life…

He gasped and opened his eyes. Then he shrieked in unholy, horrific pain. His body was still alight with spirit-fire. It ate his blood, boiling him in agony. He convulsed, vomiting from sheer agony. He screamed and dug at himself, unaware of anything else but the all-consuming spell that still sought to drive him insane with pain and rage.

Then Blake seemed to wake from her shock and immediately used a spell to knock him unconscious again. Pip cried out and scrambled across the floor, not even bothering to get up.

He began to seek inside the body of his friend, his Rider, his bond-mate. He found and systematically eliminated the spell that consumed Simon's blood and life. But the damage was extensive. It would be many, many months before he could be healed from the ravages of that spell, and from having died for several minutes.

But he was alive!

Together, the group fell to the ground and wept for all they had lost—and all they had found.

Finally, they trudged back towards the fortress, precious cargo in tow. They stopped on the way out, and dropped the cave on the pair who remained. Corinne would become a broodmother if she were allowed to live. Fate deserved a burial, even if it couldn't be a proper one. Her eggs had to be destroyed, as well. So the dwarves collapsed the cave, and the group continued on the grim march back out.

When they emerged, solemn and drawn, the atmosphere of the Keep was subdued, and as Dugan's body, then Simon's litter, were slowly carried past, heads dropped in sincere reverence.

Velistara had already related much of the story, and so as Dugan's body was carried into Dwarf Town, it was followed by human and dwarf alike. In the weeks that followed, Dwarf Town would be renamed. It became Dugan's Thaig, named for the man who gave his life so that Justice might live on.

When Dugan's corpse was delivered safely, Gillim went to his smithy. There, he retrieved a package carefully packed and laid in the back. He took it to Alistair.

"If you would be so kind, please deliver this to Simon when he recovers." He didn't mention that he knew well that the chances were that Simon might never recover. He had been given a chance—but his injuries were extreme. "Dugan made it for him. He intended to give it to him for his birthing-day."

"I will," Alistair told him, a hitch in his voice.

They grasped each other's forearms, two men in solid accord created by loss, and hope, and the potential for more loss.

Alistair went up to Simon's room. He knew what the gift was, he could feel it. So he carefully, slowly unwrapped it. He put it on the armor mannequin in the corner of the room where Simon lay unconscious.

The armor was silver, with two dragons entwined on it, a pearl dragon, and a copper dragon. Loyalty and Reason entwined, with wings outstretched. Alistair smiled, with tears in his eyes. He had hope that, if Simon awoke and saw that armor, it would give him something to live for. He covered Blake up with a blanket before he left, but didn't try to move her out of the chair.

He knew better. She would not leave her mate, of that much he was certain.


	43. The Bad News

**Part 43: The Bad News**

Simon lay in stillness, unresponsive to anyone, including Pip, who spent much of his time in human form, pacing relentlessly outside Simon's room—Blake had banished him to the corridor since he had driven her to distraction with the pacing.

Shirra spent her days wandering or sitting, staring vacantly. They had sent her to the Fade to be with the soul of her dragon, but they had been unable to find her. So Shirra had been reduced to little more than a simpleton… a haunted ghost of a person who had few responses to anyone.

She wandered, calling out to her dragon, searching, searching, searching. She found Pip one day, and stood staring at him for long moments. "You're not my dragon," she said finally, and went on her way, muttering and murmuring.

Pip watched her go, tears streaking down his cheeks. He knew that she had as good as given her life, her mind, her very being to save Simon. She yet lived, it was true, but it was no life at all for her.

And Simon himself hovered between death and life, in a limbo of nonexistence. Pip could hear nothing from him, and so he wandered much like Shirra. Except he knew where Simon was, and so had no need to search.

Senistraz came every day to see him, staying for lengths of time before returning to Margarite to teach. The Bronze Order was in full swing, and Margarite had become a bustling little metropolis in its own right. She was as constantly busy as Velistara and Alistair, but she came every day to visit with her mate and her bond-mate, without fail.

Every day, without fail, she would kiss Simon on the temple and whisper to him. "Come back, Simon. Pip needs you. Blake needs you. I need you."

The days ran into weeks, and Velistara laid her eggs. She and Alistair would not have another mating flight until near hatching time, but the laying of the largest clutch so far—eleven eggs—was met with subdued but great celebration.

Simon slept on, his body sustained now only by the means of magic. Blake grew thin and quiet, a seeming ghost of her former self. The mages created a standing rotation for those who would ensorcell the fallen Rider.

Pip paced. Blake read. Senistraz visited.

The armor sat unnoticed and gathering dust in the corner.

Slowly, Simon's room began to take on the same atmosphere as the dragon lair in the beginning. People began to drop off gifts, and it began to build up. Finally, it spilled over into the hallway.

And still… Simon slept.

One day, Abbie came into the room. "The eggs are hatching," she said. "We'll take him outside into the sun. It can't hurt him, and it might help."

Blake argued. Pip argued. Velistara and Alistair argued. Abbie insisted. Abbie persisted. Abbie won.

So out the door Simon went on a stretcher between four Guardians and two Standers.

They forgot to assign someone to watch Shirra in all the excitement of the hatching, and of moving Simon. She followed them out.

The first drakeling hatched. It waddled through the crowd, stopping to nudge Simon first. Then it waddled ungracefully over to nudge Shirra. Shirra patted the drakeling, then hugged it.

"You are not my dragon," she said. It nudged her and waddled away, bonding to its chosen partner.

One by one, the drakelings waddled over to Simon, and then to Shirra. One by one, she told each one, to the tears of the assembled, "You are not my dragon." Each moved on to bond, each new Rider turning to bow to the woman who had lost her Dragon.

The white eggs hatched, and the mottled brown eggs hatched. This time, there wasn't one left that didn't bond. Not one left that didn't hatch.

That night, in the darkness and the quiet that fell over the White Fortress, Simon woke up. "Pip?" he asked, unable to find his dragon mind since Pip was in human form outside the door.

The Fortress resounded with the shouts of a dragon-man and his joy at the awakening of his Rider, and the joyous laughter of the Rider's mate as she was whirled and twirled by said dragon-man.

Outside, awakened by the shouting and the mental prodding of Pip, Alistair and Velistara lifted their voices in vibrant bugles of pure, unadulterated joy. Alistair switched to human form, and ran half-dressed out of the quarters he shared with Velistara.

"What is it?" one of the Guardians asked.

"The Rider wakes!" Alistair shouted on his way past.

The news immediately traveled throughout the Fortress, into the Thaig, and even past that into Margarite. The early morning hours stirred with beehive-like activity as people heard the news, then headed back to their beds to chatter together in sleepless excitement.

The Rider wakes!

Many had believed that, after months had passed, it would never happen. So it was with great joy and celebration that they heard the news that his body had finally fought its way back from the edge—from the horror and pain of the terrible spell that had cost him his life.

In the Fortress itself, Blake gave him water in the darkened room, not bothering with the light. He struggled to speak, but was too weakened to even do that. Finally, he mentally spoke with Senistraz, since it was far too difficult to speak with Pip in his human form.

He fell back to sleep, but it was a normal sleep, and Blake began to scan him now that he was awake and the magic could tell her more.

"Oh no," Blake said, sinking into her chair.

"What is it?" Pip asked, unwilling to be regretful now that Simon was back more fully.

"There's a serious problem, Pip. A very serious problem."

"Do not be cryptic, tell Pip what the problem is," Pip said, impatience in his voice as he shot her a commanding, irritated look.

"He's blind, Pip. He'll never be able to see again. His corneas have been burned and scarred beyond repair. We Healed most of him, but some things are scarred and will be for the rest of his life…" She choked on a sob.

"Well. That is unfortunate, but Pip thinks death is worse," Pip said philosophically.

"We can only hope he'll agree," Blake said.

When Simon woke the next day, he asked why the room was dark. Blake told him it was because they were keeping it dark due to the long duration of his illness. He sighed and reached for her hand. "Does this mean I can't go outside?"

Blake stuttered for a few moments. "I… maybe it's too soon for that," she finally said lamely.

"And what if I were blind, could I go outside then?"

She started crying and he pulled her onto him so that her head was lying on his chest. He stroked her hair gently.

"I'm sorry, Simon," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"Were you going to tell me? Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell I was blind?" He asked her, his voice betraying irritation. "How long would you have kept me trapped in here?"

"Simon, you've been through so much, I—"

He sighed and then suddenly grinned. He felt her sit up somewhat to look at him. He followed the line of her arm and pulled her to him again. But this time, he kissed her. It was a short, quick kiss, but he was trembling with the effort of keeping his arm around her before it was halfway over.

She sat up away from him, and he let his arms drop back to the bed. He smiled at the place he thought she was. "Some things don't take sight," he said. He closed his eyes, lying back against the bed.

He heard the tears in her voice when she said, "I'll be back, I'm going to let Pip in and go tell the Elder Dragons that you're awake and going to be okay."

He nodded. He knew she wanted to go somewhere and cry where it wouldn't disturb him. A fact that he found rather disturbing, but he didn't tell her that. She meant well.

He heard Pip come in, the low murmur of their voices, and then the closing door.

"So Simon knew already?" Pip asked.

Simon nodded. "I assume they can't heal it, or they already would have."

"No, Simon's eyes cannot be healed from the blindness," Pip said, his voice echoing an infinite sadness.

Simon fought tears, struggling to hold in the sense of loss that struck him. "I'll never ride again. I'll never fight again. I'm useless," he said finally, and the dam broke in him.

"Simon will ride, Simon will fly!" Pip said so vehemently that Simon was jerked out of his struggle to stop the sobs that fought to rise in him. "Simon does not need to see to ride. Pip's eyes have always been better than Simon's, anyway."

Simon felt the bed shift as Pip sat down on it. "Simon is Pip's rider. Simon will be old and gray and riding Pip." He felt Pip lie down next to him, and sensed him put his arms behind his head. He could mentally see the dragon lying in his human form looking up at the ceiling that Simon couldn't see.

"Simon will have to get his lazy ass out of bed first, though." Pip said. "Although, Pip sees the attraction, especially when Blake is in the room, too…"

Simon couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"It is a very good thing Simon can only go blind once."

"What? Seriously? Why is that?"

"Pip has languished for months with no rider. It has been a real trial for Pip, waiting around for his Rider to get up and take him on proper patrols—" Pip laughed when Simon smacked him, albeit weakly, on the shoulder.

"Poor, suffering Pip," Simon chuckled.

"Pip really did miss Simon," Pip said quietly. "Please get strong quickly. Simon will ride again as soon as he can walk himself outside."

"I will," Simon swore to his friend. Then he fell into sleep again, all against his will.


	44. Letting Go

**Part 44: Letting Go**

Simon's recovery was slow, despite all the magical augmentation at their disposal. Yet oddly, every day, Shirra came to see him, without fail. A running joke began that one could set his or her watch by her visits with pinpoint accuracy.

She would sit beside him and hold his hand, then get up and leave. She would say nothing, and listen to nothing that was said to her. Her only comment had been the first day. "I miss my dragon." Simon cried with her.

When Blake commented on how odd her behavior was, Simon said simply, "I'm the only other person who ever really got to know her Dragon. Which is the only bond that matters to her anymore."

After some time, he was able to make it out of the doorway and into the hallway, groping along in the silent darkness. Exhaustion pulled him quickly back to the bed, but he was a robust man, and once he began to move around, his body remembered and recovered eagerly.

Every day, he returned in time to meet Shirra. Eventually, he was able to sit up. She cried on his shoulder, lost in the strange insanity that had gripped her since her Dragon's death.

At last, the day came that Simon was able to step out of the Fortress. As promised, Pip awaited him in the courtyard with a new harness on—he had long since outgrown the old one during the months that Simon had been ill and recuperating.

With help, Simon was able to climb aboard him. Blake climbed on behind, insisting that it was the only way he would be allowed to fly. As soon as Simon was aboard, Pip wrapped him fully in immobilizing magic, except his head and neck.

Then, with a leap, they were aloft. Pip slipped into Simon's mind and created a connection between the two of them. Simon looked down upon the world with the eyes of a Dragon for the first time.

He gasped in wonder. Pip saw in colors that Simon had no name for. He saw in frequencies and in heat signatures, all overlaid together.

"Simon never realized how limited his vision was?" Pip asked.

"No," Simon grinned at his friend's surprise. "It never occurred to me."

Then, Pip released Simon's arms, sensing his mood and his desire. Simon spread his arms wide and laughed in sheer joy. Pip bugled in jubilant pride and happiness, and even Blake found herself laughing.

All too soon, though, despite being immobilized, Simon felt the creeping weakness of fatigue. Pip turned back and dropped slowly into the courtyard to drop off his precious cargo.

He leaped to the battlements, turned, and roared his joy and delight.

Simon smiled as he collapsed in his bed. Sleep took over, and Simon didn't mind. Though it was hard to go back to blindness after seeing from Pip's perspective.

Slowly, the flights became a standard routine, and Simon strengthened quickly. At last, he was able to move around with some degree of self-sufficiency, though he seemed often despondent and irritable.

Blake hovered, and arguments began between them. Simon was upset that she was 'babying' him, and Blake felt it was too soon for him to go off and do things on his own. Anger and bitterness developed between them as the pair continued to scrap and fight over it.

At last, Simon slammed the door almost right in her face and stomped off up the stairs. When she started following at a distance, he yelled, "I can hear you! Leave me alone!"

So she went back and made the bed, rearranged the pillows within their designated area—but not out of it, else he trip over them—and generally fussed.

She flopped down into her chair, and found herself seized by a vision. Simon stood on the roof, holding a practice sword in his hand. Blake was gripped by terror as Simon stepped up, finding one of the dummies and hacking at it with the dull wooden 'blade.'

The dummy was weighted and springed, so it bounced away from him and then back, hitting him roughly in the shoulder. As she watched, he swore and staggered. But he kept at it, and time after time, he got hit.

But even as she watched, she saw that he was getting better. He wasn't avoiding it every time, but he was avoiding it more and more as he adjusted to the time lapse between when he hit it and when it hit back.

After some twenty minutes, he was sweating profusely, but he was avoiding more than he was getting hit. He dropped the sword back into its practice slot after some work to find the right spot. Then he headed towards the doorway in. But he was stopped by Pip's mental voice, and turned to walk back to his Dragon friend.

Blake watched as he grinned and wandered far too near the battlements for Blake's comfort. He located a brush and went back to Pip, and began to brush him. Pip nudged him lovingly, and Simon grinned again.

The vision forced her to watch helplessly as he brushed his dragon, obviously already worn out, but determined to finish. Blake struggled with her rising anger at Pip for him not telling Simon to stop. Then he walked back to put the brush away and Blake wanted to scream at him for going so close to the edge.

He walked back, patted Pip, and went towards the castle. Blake was snapped abruptly back into her body.

"Blake will say nothing to Simon. Simon needs to do these things for himself." Senistraz' voice in her head was surprisingly uncompromising.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Blake mentally berated her. "I don't answer to you. I am his healer, he shouldn't be—"

"Blake will listen to Senistraz in this. If the invalid was anyone besides Simon, Blake would encourage his independence and would encourage him to exercise. But Blake is biased and cannot see Simon's needs, only Blake's."

Then the mental connection went dead as if Senistraz had severed it. Blake screamed at her in her mind, even growling out loud in frustration. There was no response, only a cold wall of silence. Blake realized that Senistraz had changed to human form for the express purpose of avoiding Blake's mental barrage.

Determined to find her, Blake rose from her chair… just as Simon came back into the room. He said nothing to her, just pulled his sweaty shirt off. When he began to reach for his pants, she cleared her throat. She had certainly seen him naked now, multiple times—but not when he was awake, aware, and obviously able to exert himself. It felt very different to her.

"If you don't want to watch, leave," he said, his voice impatient and distant.

She fled the room, feeling suddenly very alone. She reached the courtyard and nearly ran into Velistara.

"My Lady, I'm sorry," she said, fighting to keep the hurt and frustration out of her voice.

Velistara looked at her, her pale eyes assessing and curious. "How fares Simon?" she asked.

"He's much better," Blake choked out. "Well enough that he doesn't need me anymore." She heard the bitterness in her own voice.

"That is good news. It is always better to be wanted, than needed. When you are needed, there is resentment. When you are wanted, there is welcome." Velistara stood looking at her.

Blake squirmed under her gaze.

"But being needed feels so much more certain, does it not?" Velistara patted her on the shoulder and walked into the interior of the castle.

Blake looked up to see Senistraz sitting on a bench inside the garden portion of the Sun Room. She walked in and sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry," she said, fighting another sob. "You were right. I've been holding him back because… I need…what if—"

Senistraz took her hand, and the two women sat in silence together, listening to the birds chirp. Blake realized that she didn't need to explain. Senistraz understood.

Some time had passed before Senistraz told her, "He needs to feel like a man again before he can be your equal again. To get him back in a healthy way, you will have to let him go. Let him find his own way to be the man he wants to be again."

Blake felt a tear run down her face. "What if he never comes back?" she asked.

There was no answer. Because truly, no one knew the answer.


	45. The Art of Blind Seduction

_I just wanted to take a moment to thank alyssacousland and Warrose for their dedicated reading and reviewing, as well as sapphiretoes and others. Thank you!_

**Part 45: The Art of Blind Seduction**

Simon went up each day to work out his rage, his regret, and his loss against the dummies. He improved, his body slowly regaining muscle memory of fighting. He honed his hearing, his sense of smell, even tasted the air to see if he could sense subtle differences that way.

Every day, he brushed Pip, who had the absurd temerity to molt yet again.

Blake told him about the armor, and he often found himself tracing the two dragons on it, remembering his friend and missing him.

He found Blake around much less, which was both gratifying, and irritating. He had become used to her presence, but he also felt less as incompetent when no one gasped and ran towards him every time he tripped or ran into something.

But at last, the routine began to eat at him, and he went in search of Darin. They went into Dugan's Thaig and Simon bought a small porcelain bird for Blake, that Darin told him was a bluejay. Then they had an ale together. Simon began to feel relatively human again—or Barbarian, as the case may be.

Yet as they were sitting and chatting, a bar fight broke out behind them. Despite his hard work, Simon found himself bruised and battered by the time it was over. "I think they may have knocked a tooth loose," he grumbled to Darin.

"Yeah, but man, you should see the other guy!" Darin laughed. "You really handed him his ass, man. I couldn't believe it when I saw you duck that punch and hit him right in the sternum hard enough to drop him," he said breathlessly, trying to stop laughing long enough to speak.

"I was trying to hit him in the face," Simon said wryly, which put Darin back into gales of laughter.

"Oh, I wish you could have seen the look on his face when he saw your eyes and realized he'd just gotten his ass beat by a blind guy," Darin said. "Funniest thing I've ever seen!"

"Saw my eyes? What's wrong with my eyes?"

Darin sobered immediately. "Nobody told you?"

Simon shook his head.

"Oh Fade take it. I had to open my fat mouth." Darin sighed. "They're white. You know—blind people's eyes."

Simon sighed. "So not only am I blind, but you can tell just by looking at me. Let's go back to the Fortress."

"Damn, Simon. I'm sorry. I…" Darin sighed and headed back to the fortress.

Simon followed his footsteps and the creaking of his armor. Once they entered the door, he knew by the scent and sounds. "Thank you, Darin," Simon said, clasping his forearm before going inside to his room.

The next day, he went in search of Blake after Shirra's afternoon visit.

"I got something for you," he said, trying to gauge her mood without the benefit of sight. "Hold out your hand," he requested.

Waving his own hand, he found hers, and carefully deposited the awkwardly wrapped trinket into it.

He heard her gasp and smiled. "Do you like it?" he asked. He wished he could see the look on her face.

"Yes," she said softly, her voice quiet and strained. "Thank you, Simon."

He scowled. She didn't sound very happy. She sounded upset, even distressed.

"Well," he said, feeling suddenly out of his element and uncertain. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He stalked from the room, ignoring her calling his name. He slammed roughly into the door frame and swore, stumbling out and into the hallway, walking away and counting steps as fast as he could.

He no sooner got into this room before he felt his body go rigid. He was jerked willy-nilly out of his body and into the 'scrying room'. He found he could see her as clearly as he had ever seen her with his eyes.

She was rushing down the hallway to her room. She leaned back against the door, the tiny porcelain bird clutched to her chest. Then, to his surprise, she lifted it to her lips and kissed it. Her face was lit up with a huge smile that made his heart do flip-flops.

She set it carefully, almost reverently on the chest of drawers, then gently ran her fingers down it. She smiled, leaving the room. He watched her as she went into the room of one of the elderly mages, and realized this was part of her job as a Healer.

"What're you grinning about, girl?" the old woman asked her with an answering smile.

"Simon gave me a present," she answered, her smile growing even larger.

Simon realized suddenly that it was Addie. When had she gotten so old?

"Simon did, you say?" Abbie asked. "Well, now. Maybe that boy'll pull his head out and get back to business."

"Abbie!" Blake admonished her. "He's been through a lot, and he's blind now, you know. It hasn't been easy."

"Hmph," Abbie said. "Bein' blind ain't no excuse. He can't have forgotten what you look like, not a knockout like you," she told Blake, waving her fork at the younger mage. "It's been months, he's wasting too much time. Besides, you'll both be goin' crazy soon if you don't get on with it."

"Well, it's my fault as much as his, Abbie. I felt more secure when he needed me all the time." She sighed and sat down beside the elder mage.

Abbie grunted. "Need breeds resentment. Better make that boy want you so much he can't stand himself."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Blake asked. "It's not like I can dress skimpy, he can't see me!"

Simon groaned in frustration as he was whisked away and back into his body. He really would have liked to know what Abbie had to say on that subject! Not that he needed any help to want Blake so much it made him crazy—not in the least…

But several hours later, Blake arrived with his dinner. Under the scent of food, he smelled a new fragrance. He thought little of it, until the next morning the scent reached his nose before her voice… a voice subtly altered in a way he couldn't pinpoint.

Then he realized that she was facing him to speak. Every single time she spoke, it was directly towards him, if she was talking to him.

Within a week, he was looking forward to the faint scent of white rose water. It announced her presence, and it lingered when she left. He couldn't help but grin when he realized it… she had certainly played that card well.

But, he decided, two could play that game. He convinced Darin to help him work out, and he went into the Thaig often to find small things he thought she might like. He memorized the way to her door from his, and he carefully placed them in front of hers.

It quickly became a game. And the strange bond they had often cooperated fully, leaving one or the other watching the response to the strange game they were playing with one another.

Simon began stealing kisses again, though he informed her with a totally straight face that, even if he knew where the broom closet was, she would get no kisses in it.

In the meantime, though, the news outside the White Fortress grew worse with each passing day. The Darkspawn incursions were increasing, not decreasing. The White Order had been forced to petition the King for reinforcements.

Simon had pulled Blake into a corner, when they heard Alistair and Velistara approaching. He shushed Blake and cocked his head to listen, grinning when Blake giggled slightly.

But the grin soon faded to a look of grim concern.

"It's getting worse, and we don't even know why they're coming here. I would have thought it would have ended with Fate's death. But it hasn't, in fact, it seems all of the ones that were after her, are now after something here."

"I fear it may be Pip or Senistraz," Velistara replied as they passed the dark alcove Simon and Blake were wedged into. "Perhaps there's something we're missing here, that prevents the Darkspawn from hearing us…"

Her voice trailed into the distance, and Simon could no longer hear what she was saying.

"It's been getting worse?" Simon asked Blake.

Blake shrugged. "I thought I heard they'd sent for help from the King, but I didn't know why. He refused, last I heard. Things must be getting desperate if they sent for help, their relationship with the King is extremely strained right now."

Simon turned away and paced, growling as he bumped into a massive vase and had to catch it.

"I've got to go talk to them," he said. "There has to be something we're missing."

He held out his arm to her, and invited her along with him. They wandered in the wake of the Elder Dragons, Simon accepting Blake's occasional course correction without comment.


	46. Mating Flight

_Contains explicit description of 'dragon sex.' You have been warned!_

**Part 46: Mating Flight**

The next morning, Simon and Blake went to find the Elder Dragons. They speculated at length why it was that Velistara and Alistair weren't attractive to the Darkspawn, but at last, Simon pointed out that they couldn't truly compare, since they were both actually Dragons, and Simon and Blake couldn't exactly mate with their dragons.

When it was pointed out that perhaps the pair might not be so attractive to Darkspawn after they were mated to each other, there was much discussion of the missing factor of Alistair being a warden.

But neither Simon nor Blake could focus on the discussion at hand. For Simon, there was the constant distraction of the scent and sound of Blake beside him. His sense of smell had grown enough that he could tell she was aroused, simply by the smell of her.

For her part, Blake couldn't take her eyes off of Simon's hands. She watched him fiddle with a piece of pencil he'd picked up off of the table, and it was all she could think about—those hands.

"Are you two okay?" Alistair asked, his voice seeming to both of them to come from a great distance.

"Mmhmm," Simon said, sounding breathless and ragged.

"Yes." Blake's voice was dreamy and breathy as well.

Eyebrows rose around the room at the most open display of distraction they'd ever seen. A few giggled, but Simon simply continued to twiddle the pencil, and Blake continued to watch him doing it, squirming uncontrollably in her chair.

Suddenly, the sounds of agitated drakes and dragons sounded from outside.

"Oh dear," Velistara said as realization crashed in.

When everyone turned to stare at her, she said, "I believe Senistraz is in heat." It wasn't an exact wording, but it got across the point perfectly—Senistraz was ready to mate.

Alistair guided Simon up to the roof of the Fortress, he not objecting to being led for the first time since he had been struck blind. Velistara led Blake, and then they watched as the male drakes, as well as Pip, swooped over the forest beyond the mountains. They waited while Senistraz swept down into the herd reserved specifically for feeding the dragons.

She killed, and rather than eating, she drained the cow of blood. Then, she flashed into the sky, no longer humanlike in intelligence, but animalistic in her burning lust and the maddening grip of the magic that imbued her body during mating. She stooped again on another, once more draining it of blood so that her belly would not be too full to fly.

The other drakes joined Pip, who was also reduced to animalistic mating instincts. Whoever could catch her and subdue her would mate with the female dragon. If Pip was not fast enough, clever enough, or strong enough, he would lose his mate.

That was the way of the wild dragons, and that was the way it would be here. Nature gave way to magic, to the bonding… but nature still demanded the best genetics be passed on. Senistraz was not bound as yet to any mate—but she would be when this first flight was over.

Pip landed on an outcropping and roared his challenge to the other drakes, and Simon melded with him perfectly. He felt himself as Pippilinipini, his mind and his entire being caught up in the frenzied lust of his dragon.

When Senistraz rose again, she took off into the air, and Pip-Simon roared after her, eating up distance like it was nothing. But Senistraz was gorged on blood and magic, and she was faster, stronger, and more lithe than ever.

Pip-Simon saw her flashing form glittering ahead in the sky. He saw white bodies below and above him, and he bellowed his defiance. She was his—HIS! Simon sensed the mind of Blake in the flashing, glittering, gleaming form ahead of him, and he urged Pip on.

Pip, though, needed no urging. He roared, pouring himself into the flight, drawing ahead of the male drakes, who roared their own anger and challenge.

Simon was powerful, and free, and he smelled the pungent lust of the dragon ahead of him. He practically vibrated with the need to reach her, his mighty wings, made for speed, and power, answered his demand for more. Streamlined, he tore through the air, his powerful talons tucked to his body to eliminate wind sheer.

Ahead of him, Senistraz-Blake laughed, bugling in mockery of the straining males behind. Locked into Senistraz' mind as she was, Blake stood swaying and laughing on the battlements. She was lost to her presence there, feeling only the power, the magic, that surged through her dragon's body.

Senistraz banked, rising into the sky. She went much higher than the laboring males, then dropped like an arrow between them, narrowly missing them and banking again to stream out in front of them.

They were weak, these males. They were unworthy, if they could not catch her. It mattered not that she was magically enhanced and they were not. It mattered only that she could literally fly circles around them, and she did, bugling in mockery as two of the white ones battered into each other and fell from the chase.

She mocked them, slowing down until they were near, letting them strain, strain, and strain. The copper one—the dragon—nearly got her, but she was more clever than he, and rolled in the air, away from his grappling talons.

She banked under a white who reached for her, then pulled up and watched with amusement as the pathetic males flew past her.

Pathetic! She was amused by their efforts as she rose up into the air, climbing, climbing. They chased her, but they dropped away fast, and she bugled her triumph as two more white ones dropped away.

There were more, though, and she dropped towards them, mocking and spinning as she stooped on them as if they were prey. They scattered, but one white one got too close, hoping to grapple her. Senistraz hit him, unable to veer away, and the white one tumbled and rolled through the air, crying in pain as he plummeted.

Two flashing forms captured him and carried him back to the fortress. Unworthy.

She climbed once more, but this time, flirted with danger, weaving in and out between them. One tried, too slow. She bugled with amusement.

Then she felt shadow, and she tucked into a roll—too slow!

The copper dragon grappled her, his talons wrapping around her, snaring her. His wings matched hers, and she fought to pull away, but he grappled her closer, his head snaking out to curl around her neck. His spines snapped out, and she dared not resist, realizing in some distant part of her mind that, in his mating furor, he would impale her on these dangerous, violent spines if she resisted.

Pip-Simon felt the instant she submitted, and he roared with furious, jubilant triumph. He grappled her even closer, lifting her up towards the sky, rising with his prize. His prehensile penis left its sheath to slide around her, seeking the heat of her vaginal entrance. He found it already leaking fluids so copiously that they were flying away on the wind behind them, and he slid inside, possessing her, owning her, claiming her.

She would reject any other sperm but his for the rest of her life.

He roared again, unrepentantly dominant. He thrust inside her, and as soon as he felt her heat around him, he leveled out so that they flew straight. He sought inside her with his sensitive, mobile penis, until he found the entrance to her womb. With a grunt, he secreted the hormones that would open her to his desire.

Pleasure flowed through him as he felt her open, and he pushed inside.

Senistraz felt the hormones release inside her, flooding her with heat and liquid pleasure. The eggs released from her primary chamber into the womblike secondary chamber. As the hormones from Pip poured into her, her secondary womb convulsed and surged, every contraction sending waves of pleasure through her. Her body surged around Pip's penis, drawing his sperm into her womb to fertilize the eggs that pushed into her.

Then, it was over, and Pip slowly withdrew from her, leaving her glowing slightly, her body still spasming with pleasure and sated lust.

Pip's spines dropped back against his head, and he released her, separating from her easily. They flew side by side now, then they began to dance, spiraling and whirling and flashing through the air.

Simon and Blake returned to themselves on the battlements, slowly coming back to awareness, their bodies still lit up with the same longing their dragons had just sated together.


	47. The Sealing

_Explicit description of human sex, virginity._

**Part 47: The Sealing**

Blake looked at Simon, and saw him scenting the air like a predator. She stumbled towards him, and felt him grab her and pull her against him. His hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head back, his lips pressing down urgently against hers.

"Stop me now," he growled low into her ear. "Or you won't be able to stop me at all."

She kissed him, pulling him closer, all of the pent up desire she'd felt for him for literally years boiling through her. He pushed her, and she realized he knew exactly where he was going. He dragged her to the room he'd once lived in, and pulled the now dusty cover off of the bed.

She began to shiver, and he quickly found the flint and tinder exactly where he'd left it and lit the brazier. The fire flared, and he swiftly divested himself of his leather breeches and tunic. His smallclothes dropped as well, and he lowered himself to her unerringly.

His hands shoved at her skirts as his lips once more devoured hers, his tongue demanding, questing, seeking. She opened up to him as willingly as Senistraz had acquiesced to Pippilinipini, and he growled with feral satisfaction.

Soon he had divested her of her robe, letting go of her mouth only long enough to push it over her head. His hands roamed her, testing and searching every inch of her body, though he avoided the part she most wanted touched—bypassing the mound between her legs on the way past.

She moaned with frustration and felt him grin against her lips. Then his hands were at her breasts, and he left her mouth to suckle at one while his hands kneaded and explored. His mouth tugged and his tongue lathed and teased a nipple, and she arched and cried out.

She tried to touch him, but realized that all she could do was cling to his head. He moved to the other breast, then one of his hands reached down and shifted her hips up towards him, one finger exploring inside the wet heat of her labia.

She nearly cried with frustration as he stroked, searching her, following the urging of her groans and moans to find the right spot. When he slipped a finger inside her, she bucked against him, sobbing with near-painful lust.

He groaned her name, leaving her breast to kiss her again with fervent eagerness. His hand continued to stroke her until she cried out his name and convulsed, shimmering undulations of pleasure snaking through and over her under his commanding hand and its questing fingers.

Then he nudged at her entrance, and she felt a momentary fear, followed by the distant comforting of Senistraz, a gentle coo that eased her fears.

Then Simon pushed into her and met resistance. She cried out in pain and he stopped in frustration. She panted heavily, then told him, "Just do it fast!" So he did, and she gasped in shocked pain.

He rocked inside her gently. Slowly, the pain eased and she began to feel pleasure again. She wrapped her legs around him, wondering in awe at the power of his muscles as he surged in and out of her.

He ducked his head against her shoulder, his hands wrapped under her arms and around her shoulders so that he could leverage in and out of her.

She found herself urging him on, her body shifting and meeting his eagerly as the pressure began to build up inside her again. The slapping of their bodies was loud in the small, sparse room, and the scent of sex rose around them, with the coppery tinge of blood underlying it.

He began to move faster, and she realized he was close to orgasm. He kissed her, and she wrapped around him, pulling him closer, even more aroused at the knowledge that he was about to cum inside of her than she'd ever thought possible.

The sound of his desire and he moaned in concert with her spurred her ever closer, until she felt him thrust roughly into her, and she felt his penis twitching as he groaned—a deep, primal sound that pushed her over the edge of her own orgasm once again.

Her body convulsed so hard she head-butted him. The distant song of the dragons swelled and roared, and they smiled at each other. Then Simon collapsed forward on top of her, and she welcomed his comforting weight. He leaned on his arms so that he didn't crush her, but he was heavy on her, and she found it sensual and warming.

As the song swelled within their hearts, some seventeen thousand plus heads turned towards the source of The Sealing. A song not heard in nearly thirty years sang across the world, and the People heard it.

"Dragon's claw!" was whispered in surprise. Looks were exchanged, and surprise was exchanged for immediate action.

The People began to pack up all of their belongings, answering the unconscious calling of a near-forgotten song. Young and old alike, they prepared for a Pilgrimage.

One alone among them all was unhappy to hear the ancient call. One alone among them rejected the call—yet he, too, began to pack for the journey. Saulus would not willingly relinquish his position. But if he was not there to defend it, he would lose it automatically.


	48. Problems

**Part 48: Problems**

Simon and Blake both understood that the Sealing had happened. They felt it; they recognized the source of it. It wasn't the sex, it was the mating of the dragons that had sealed their hearts and opened them to each other.

When they emerged many hours later to eat, they went to the kitchens. They were surprised to find that everyone they passed seemed to be chattering eagerly about the once-in-a-lifetime event of seeing a genuine Dragon Mating Flight.

Although of course Alistair and Velistara rose often, there was never competition for her. Senistraz' flight was the first time that they'd seen such a sight, and apparently the dragons had been visible for most of it.

The spectacular acrobatic sky-dancing afterward was the gossip of the day everywhere, and even commoners from beyond the fort were speaking of it, according to rumors. There was much speculation that the flight would bring in more recruits.

Which, they learned some months later, might not be a good thing. A meeting was called, and as Dragon Riders, they were required to attend.

"The King claims his forces are stretched to the breaking point. The Chantry and the Circle of Magi have called for forces to aid them, and they are scouring the countryside, taking up hedge wizards, herbalists with minor magical powers, Chasind witches, and any child with the least possibility of magical ability." Alistair paced, obviously worried.

"The more I hear, the more likely civil war seems." Alistair dropped the bomb into the conversation quietly, as if discussing nothing more than weather. "And it's a war we'll lose, because we're over-run still by Darkspawn at the same time that we're being threatened by the Chantry."

"I should have known this would become an issue with the Chantry," Velistara said with a sigh. "The idea of us challenging the divinity of the Maker could come from nowhere else."

"Yet, we not only acknowledge the Maker, but we recognize his existence and teach that he made us!" Alistair objected. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"They are actively seeking to prevent mages from coming to us, or to the Bronze Order." Velistara told the room at large. "So we must begin making it easier for them to find and take sanctuary with us. It's wrong to force them to slavery at the Circle when there are alternatives that are gentler and more humane. It should be their right to choose."

"We can begin sweeps," Fordir said. "Maybe even begin regular visits to town centers."

"Do it," Velistara told him, and Alistair nodded.

"There's something else." Simon let go of Blake's hand to stand up and walk around the table. "I've heard talk among the dwarves that there is resentment among the humans of Margarite, and even beyond. That only the White Order gets to attempt to bond the drakes."

"That is not true!" Velistara objected. "The drakes are allowed to choose from anyone present!"

"And there's rarely anyone present who isn't either of the White Order, or a servant of the White Order."

Alistair groaned. "What's next? It never ends! No one's ever satisfied!"

"We'll have to find a way to bring in others that doesn't create security problems." Velistara rested her forehead on her hand. She had clutched, but the hatching wasn't for some months yet.

"Well, Senistraz is due to clutch in a few months," Blake put in. "It may be easier to deal with finding drake riders for her clutches. She's already several times larger than Velistara, so I suspect her clutch may be more than double Velistara's standard clutches. No doubt due to the fact that the taint is clearly carried into Alistair's draconic form."

Simon nodded. "We're also now certain that the Darkspawn are coming after Senistraz and Pip. If our initial calculations had been correct and it was the mating that sealed them away, they would have subsided. But both Pip and Senistraz report hearing them now—"

"That's not good. That's not good at all," Alistair groaned. "If the Darkspawn manage to make it to either of them—but most especially Senistraz—this could be one of the worst events in our history."

"We have to find a way to block them from sensing them, I think," Simon replied. "There's some connection we're not seeing, if I can just sort out what it is."

"Focus on that, please," Alistair told him. Then he changed the subject. "There has also been an outbreak in the Mage Quarter. Blood magic. We're going to need to monitor new arrivals better."

"I believe the mage who caused this may have been a plant," Blake told him. "I—"

"We cannot make accusations until we're certain," Velistara stopped her. "Surely the Chantry would not stoop to such a thing. Blood magic is against everything they stand for."

"They employed Senathin," Simon argued.

"Yet we don't know if they sanctioned her methods, or if she took it upon herself," Velistara tapped the table with her finger. "We must have proof. We cannot start a war on suppositions, and if we go before the King with this, the chances are great that it may well start one."

"But, bring me proof," Alistair interjected, "and I will not hesitate to do that."

They filed out of the meeting, everyone unhappy with the outcome and uncertain of what to do next.

Simon and Blake went back to Margarite on Pip. They had new quarters there, beside the massive incubation chamber that had been carved into the mountainside for Senistraz. Pearl Guards walked the stone passages, and Shirra ghosted around the eggs, the place she was most often found these days, her eyes vacant and her fingers tapping restlessly in an unheard rhythm.

The chamber was warmed by subterranean vents that steamed into it, giving it a constant high humidity. For several hours of the day, sun broke into it through the dragon's exit carved into the top. Despite this massive opening, though, the heat in the chamber never relented.

Yet worry and concern seemed to hang in the very air as winter encroached and Margarite grew. The new Order of Bronze Magi was established, taking up much of Blake's time. Even though they were now married and living together, Simon often complained he saw less of her than when they were not married.

But life, in that way it has, could not be denied, and just before the first snowfall, Blake announced to Simon that she was pregnant. Not bad, she pointed out, for him never seeing her.

Simon trained with the new Pearl Protector recruits on a daily basis. His body was back to his previous great size, rippling with muscle and he won more often than he lost.

As Blake's middle thickened and the days grew shorter, he and Pip began to practice together. Simon felt confident now that, even without Pip, he wasn't a hindrance in a battle. But he longed for the days when he had felt like more—an asset.

So he began to train by looking through Pip's eyes. It was a new and strange experience, and it was months before he mastered it—but he did so quickly and with a great deal of excitement.

Yet as the winter months dragged on, the Darkspawn intrusions only increased. Fighting became near continuous. Reports began to come in of a large group massing in the foothills. Drake patrols continued to bring in more and more reports of groups coming from all directions in the mountains, joining the growing group of … possibly refugees? There were arguments about the growing group of tents, the nature of their incursion, and the reasons for their growing numbers. Yet they simply seemed to camp there, hunting and patrolling the area immediately around them. They killed any Darkspawn that happened on them, but in no other way approached or threatened anyone.

Some argued that if they were hostile, they would have attacked. Others argued that if they were friendly, they would have come forward. Their ranks continued to swell and yet nothing else changed.

Blake soon ceased to teach at the Magi Center, informed by the senior mages that she could accidentally call on the life forces of her twins and kill one or both. There was great surprise and celebration upon the knowledge that she carried twins… soon offset by the peaceful death of Abbie.

Simon, despite his blindness, knew the way around every inch of the Bronze Fortress. He and Pip fought Darkspawn daily, practicing learning how to do battle together.

Then it was Spring.


	49. Rumors of War

_Extra huge thanks to Dasque, who took on the toilsome burden of being my beta. Thank you so much! *Box of chocolates and some daisies for the lovely Beta reader!*_

_Mondo thanks to my dear friends who continue to read and review, as well. *flowers for Warrose and alyssacousland*_

**Part 49: Rumors of War**

The earliest weeks of Spring were subtle, but sunshine and warmth slowly began to increase. With the thawing of the roads came an influx of visitors. They began as a trickle, but quickly became a steady stream. The warmer lowlands were giving up their merchants to the climb to the bustling mountaintop lairs.

One day, news came of an approaching retinue, bearing the Redcliffe Crest. Theodore Guerrin was the current Arl, and it was assumed that the visitor must certainly be he. It was a prestigious visit, so preparations began immediately.

The hatching of Velistara's eleven eggs would be soon, though Senistraz' had several months more before hatching. There were many tents in the courtyard where visitors even from other nations had come to camp to await the hatching. It caused a spillover into the Thaig, much to the dwarves' displeasure.

When the Arl arrived, Blake and Simon greeted him, as the leaders of the Bronze and Pearl Orders.

"I'm Simon, and this is my wife, Blake," Simon greeted the visiting Arl, a young man with reddish hair.

He extended his hand, taking Blake's and kissing it in a courtly gesture. "I am Theodore Guerrin," he answered, not taking his eyes off of Blake, who pulled her hand out of his, taking a step back from his intense gaze.

He then looked at Simon, his eyes flaring as he noticed the white eyes seeming to stare back at him implacably. "I understand there will be drakes hatching soon, and that anyone is free to bond one. I've come to get a dragon egg, and to make the Elder Dragons a proposition I know they will find irresistible."

"Perhaps you were misinformed," Simon said smoothly. "The drakes, as well as the dragons, choose their own Riders."

"Ah, yes, I had heard this. But the Chantry has informed me—"

"The Chantry has no authority here," Simon interrupted him, curt and pointed.

"Come now. Surely it's better that I discuss this with the Dragons. Aren't you the shit-man that stole a dragon? I doubt you have any real understanding of politics. And certainly, if you can steal—"

Pip roared from the massive ledge that overshadowed the city, lowering his head to gaze with gleaming, malicious eyes at the arrogant Arl. His wings stretched to their full size—considerable given that he had outgrown even Alistair.

"Perhaps you would care to take this up with Pippilinipini," Simon invited.

"No, no," Arl Theodore said hastily. "I'll move on into the White Fortress and speak with Alistair. I understand the eggs about to hatch are his, anyway."

He walked away without another word, and Blake turned to Simon. "I predict that's going to go very poorly for the Arl."

"Wait until Velistara hears him saying he's there to demand he be given a dragon. Would love to be a nug in a side-hole for that one."

Blake chuckled and the pair went back inside.

The Arl continued in through the Thaig, managing to infuriate the dwarfs on his way through. When he reached the other side, he rudely demanded to be allowed to see the Elder Dragons immediately—and to be shown the eggs so that he might have his pick.

As such, when he was shown in to Alistair and Velistara, they were already set against him. But as soon as he informed them that he would soon be King, because Karlus was weak and ineffectual, their dislike of him mounted.

Then he continued, "I have come to allow you to swear fealty to me now, before the war begins," he informed them. "And I will need a dragon of my own. It's entirely inappropriate for a king to be without a dragon. You do realize, of course, that there can be no mistake here—"

"You will have to take your chances like everyone else," Velistara interrupted him. "However—"

She sighed as a banging on the door broke through the middle of her warning.

"The eggs!" cried a voice from the other side of the door. "They're hatching, My Lady, My Lord!"

"Excellent!" the haughty young Arl crowed. "Let us be on with it, then!"

Velistara and Alistair barred his way out the door. "You will not touch any drakeling that doesn't come up to you. If you even try, you will be forcibly removed from the courtyard." Alistair fairly bristled with menace.

"Oh, come now. I wouldn't dream of it!" he responded, as if he'd never pushed the issue. He shouldered past them and out into the hallway, surrounded by a pincushion of glaring guards.

People were rushing through the Thaig into the courtyard, Pip and Senistraz having already spread the news.

Pip showed up to watch, but Simon, Blake, and Senistraz stayed behind to guard the eggs. Simon had argued that during one Dragon's hatching, the other dragon's eggs might be attacked, and the point had been well taken.

Shirra wandered out, swaying and mumbling to herself. The courtyard rapidly filled, a great air of expectancy and excitement taking over. Even Arl Theodore's guard were seen to smile once or twice at the antics of some of the children.

The wide doors were thrown open so that the drakelings could wander out, seeking their new Riders. It was a recent innovation, and one that was well-received.

One by one, the first several eggs hatched. Without incident, they waddled out, paid their due respects to Shirra, and moved on to find Riders. One young man stood in confusion as a drake wandered up to him and started nudging him.

"Take your hands out of your pockets!" someone called with a laugh, and as soon as he did so, the drakeling pierced his hand and bonded to him. The trademark white spread across him, even as the young man's freckled face went from pale, drawn white to bright red and grinning.

"He's hungry!" The pronouncement was met with general laughter, and he was handed a bucket of meat to feed to the drakeling. As a merchant's son, he hadn't expected to bond to a drake. In fact, he might not have, had his parents' wagon not needed repairs.

Some six drakelings had hatched and waddled around to find their bond-mates when the first sounds of trouble were heard from the rear near the newest section of cleared courtyard. The excavations to enlarge it had continued for years, and now it was so large that the commotion from the back couldn't be seen from the front.

As the noise became clearer and the cries grew louder, Alistair switched to dragon form, leaping into the air right from where he stood, to the shouts of surprise of the assembled. His mental call went out to Velistara and Pip, "Darkspawn!"

The skirmish with the Darkspawn was short, but it was a large band, and the moments ticked away as the Guardians, the Standers, the Riders, and the Mages joined the fray. Problems arising from the incursion were immediate… the battle spilled in several different directions, leaving panicked civilians and terrified children milling wildly in the courtyard.

It was some moments after the battle ended before Alistair heard the terrified, enraged squealing of a drakeling. Pushing through the crowd, leaving the restoration of order to Velistara and the Order members, he followed the source of the angry squeals.

To his fury, he found Arl Theodore snarling and slapping at a drakeling he was trying to hold under one arm, with two of his guards trying to help. The shrieking drakeling was fighting back, but if it opened any wounds and tasted blood, it would be bonded—against its will.

Alistair led his charge with a powerful gauntleted fist. It connected with the Arl's arrogant face with a resounding 'crack!'

Stumbling, he dropped the drakeling, and the guards all turned on Alistair. The drakeling charged between Alistair and a guard, bawling in distress, fear, and fury. People melted out of the way as it rushed through the crowd until it found Shirra.

She picked it up and comforted it, until its eyes had lost their wild edge and it was chirping softly instead of mewling with fear. Then she set it down, patted it on the head and said, "You are not my dragon."

It cheeped one more time and then waddled over to snap sharp little teeth into the hand of its bond-mate. The young woman knelt beside her as the drakeling turned and gave one short, squawking protest to the Arl before proceeding to eat the proffered meat.

By this time, the Arl and his guards were surrounded by a barely restrained, very, very angry White Order. Weapons were out, and Arl Theodore's guards had turned him into a porcupine, swords standing out like a multitude of spines.

"Get out of here. Leave and do not come back," Alistair's statement was bald, direct, and filled with venom.

"I'm to be King!" the young Arl yelled. "You'll regret this! You'll wish you'd never crossed me!"

"You are not King Karlus' chosen successor," Alistair told him. "I don't know where you get this ridiculous idea that you'll become King, but even if you did, I still wouldn't want you anywhere around here. Now get out."

"You'll see!" the Arl yelled again like an overgrown, petulant child. "You just wait! I'll be King and you'll be sorry! You'll come groveling!"

Huffing the whole way, he led his guards away, pushing people out of the way and trying to kick a drakeling in passing, who hissed and flared his spines, despite his youth.

As he left, Alistair looked at Velistara. "Why do I get the feeling that I should have killed him, rather than let him go?"

"If you had, you would have turned the whole nation against us," Velistara said. But her voice carried heavy regret and resignation. It was clear that, barring that, she would have agreed with his assessment.


	50. Usurpation Preparation

_Sweet, thanks to Dasque's awesome beta skills, this chapter and the last one are much more awesomer! (No, she doesn't get to beta my comments :D )._

**Part 50: Usurpation Preparation**

It was two weeks later when the summons came, a message from King Karlus couched in very courteous terms, requesting to visit with Alistair as soon as his affairs could be put in order.

Then there was an additional request, just as polite, but far more officious and uncompromising. The king ordered that one Darin Cousland be sent to the Palace with all haste, and with complete and appropriate entourage as to ensure his safe and timely arrival.

"Darin? Is there something you would like to tell us?" Alistair asked as he glanced over the parchment again. "The King has summoned me, but he has commanded that you be sent—with armed escort—immediately into the custody of the Palace."

Those sitting in the meeting room were surprised to see him go pale. "The King has sent for me?"

"Yes," Alistair said, handing him the official missive. "And he wants you there with all haste."

If anything, Darin went even more pale. "I must leave at once, then. Also, I must officially rescind my vows as a Stander, immediately and without prejudice. When I took mine, it was under Mathinas, anyway, so the only thing I can rescind is the 'fealty' vow he demanded to himself."

Alistair's eyebrows climbed nearly up to his hairline. "He changed the vows to himself?" he asked incredulously. At Darin's distracted nod, he continued, "Well then. I guess we'll be redoing some vows around here."

"Darin, why have you been called to the Palace?" Velistara asked him.

"My father was selected as Karlus' heir when the Queen died in childbirth. Karlus didn't want to remarry, so he selected an heir. Queen's Consort Xander was my grandfather's brother. Grandpa Fergus wasn't in line for the throne, but his connection to Xander is the closest to a royal bloodline that exists anymore, except, of course, Alistair."

"So it would seem that something has happened to your father," Blake said sympathetically.

Darin's voice hitched as he replied, "So it would seem, yes."

"But why would Theodore think he was to be heir if something happened to your father?"

"I have vows to the White Order—or so people thought. As you know, according to the treaty between the White Order and Ferelden, no one of the White Order may be made, or allowed, to hold noble title nor position in government. It was an attempt to prevent a takeover by the White Order. However, my vows were not to the White Order, but to Mathinas, who is dead anyway."

"If the King thought you had vows to the White Order, why would he summon you?"

"I'm uncertain, but I suspect that it directly relates to Arl Theodore. If he's making a bid for the throne, Karlus would be desperate to find a way to prevent that. His health is failing, and he can't afford to wait. If I can't be made eligible, he'll have to find someone who can."

He sat back and looked at Simon wryly. "You know, this goes to prove a thing I've been thinking about often lately. It's funny how a single incident in your life can change you. If it hadn't been for Simon handing my ass to me all those years ago, I would be little different from Theodore. Which isn't my parents' fault, they tried to instill in me an understanding that even servants are people. But it took Simon proving it to me to really change my way of thinking." He stood and clasped his friend on the shoulder and then left the room without another word.

"Great, just when I thought I'd escaped politics," Alistair groaned.

"You have had nearly a hundred years' reprieve, so do not be too quick to complain," Velistara told him.

"I'll ask Pip. Maybe he'll be willing to fly Darin to the Palace," Simon offered. "It would make an excellent show of solidarity with him from the Bronze and Pearl Orders, and I think that could sway a lot of nobles towards his cause."

"I will go one better than that," Velistara told him. "I will carry him, myself. Alistair still has a harness, though he never uses it. Darin should fit it with only minor adjustments. You can come as well, Pip, although I think both Blake and Senistraz should stay behind. Perhaps some of the Riders who escort us could wear Pearl colours to represent the Pearl Order."

Because there was no longer a clutch in Velistara's incubation chamber, there was no need for someone to stay and protect it, unlike Senistraz'. And of course, Blake was pregnant, and no one knew what effect flying would have on her, so she hadn't done it since she got pregnant. That was standard practice for all pregnant Riders.

Thus the decision was sorted out. When Darin was informed, he argued vociferously against it, until he was forced to admit that he was terrified of flying. Reminded that the future of the Kingdom may well rest upon him overcoming it, he reluctantly agreed to try it. Pip taught Velistara the immobilization spell, and they determined to leave the next day.

Servants were sent to help Simon pack. He selected what he would need for the week or so it would take for his trunks to arrive, and met Velistara the next morning on top of the battlements.

Simon kissed Blake in the courtyard and mounted Pip. Alistair left Fordir in charge, and the Dragons took off first. The drakes and their Riders leaped into the air, forming a wedge formation above the three dragons, and the group headed towards Denerim.

Several hours later, they were winging over Denerim above the pointing and shouting of the populace. They had never seen a full wing of Drakes before, much less the three massive dragons.

Alistair landed first, changing to his human form. One by one, the dragons dropped into the courtyard, dropping of their riders and cargo before altering into their human forms. The drakes settled on the high walls surrounding the palace, to the chagrin of the Guards.

King Karlus appeared at the doorway, looking frail and old—but thrilled at the display.

"Never seen a dragon before," he said, his voice shaking like his hands. "Beautiful creatures. Oh, sorry, sorry. I… beautiful."

Velistara smiled and curled her hand through his arm. He smiled back, looking slightly dizzied by her elegant grace.

"We have delivered Darin as you requested, Your Majesty," she told him. "Shall we go inside and speak together?"

It was immediately obvious that he was already charmed by her, and they all retired inside, where he bellowed in a surprisingly strong voice for food to be brought, a City Holiday to be declared and prepared for the next day, and rooms to be properly settled for his prestigious guests.

Then he led them into a meeting room.

"Darin," he began sadly. "I'm sure you've already guessed why you are here. Your father was killed while hunting. It appears to be an accident, but it's a very convenient one for Arl Theodore, who would be next in line to succeed me, if you cannot be found to be eligible."

"Well," Darin said. "There's some good news. Standers are not of the White Order—"

"An oversight we intend to correct," Alistair interjected.

"—but actually took vows of fealty to a man by the name of Mathinas. He is dead now, so even if I couldn't rescind my vows, they are ended by default due to his death."

Karlus slapped the table with his palm. "Capital, my dear fellow, capital! This is the best news I've had in years! You'll be announced tomorrow. No need to wait now that we know."

He tottered over to the pull cord. When one of the servants showed up, he sent for his advisors. When they filed in, he immediately did the paperwork for the decree. When it was done some several hours later, he groaned as the advisors shuffled out.

"I'd have waited to do that, but there have been a lot of nobles who have a claim to the throne having 'accidents' and meeting with unfortunate food poisonings and such lately. For all I know, I could be poisoned tonight."

Velistara started in surprise. "It is that bad?"

"Yes. I'm certain Theodore—or more likely his 'advisor' Bann Cordilia is behind it. He's engaged to her, and she's about as nasty a woman as I've ever laid eyes on. Beautiful, but vicious." He patted Velistara's hand. "Though not as beautiful as you, my dear. Make me miss my late wife, you do."

He seemed to fall into a melancholic stupor then, nodding off a few minutes later as they discussed their concern over what they'd just heard.

"I suspect he might have tried to do something to me as well," Darin put in, "but the White Order's fortress is too well guarded."

"Yes. So far as I know, it's the best guarded place in the world," Alistair said. "And not without reason. Ambitious nobles are only part of what we have to worry about. It's good fortune that you happened to be chosen as a Stander."


	51. A New Guard

_Yay for more Dasque Magic! *happy dance* LOL, I didn't translate it well from her notes to the submission document. *sigh* :p  
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_Thanks again to my devoted readers who comment on my stories. I am truly grateful, and I absolutely love to receive reviews and comments. *hugs for Warrose and alyssacousland*  
_

**Part 51: A New Guard**

The next day, the decree that Darin Cousland was the successor to King Karlus was announced. The Riders protected him, their drakes squatting on the walls of the Palace, making people _ooo_ and _ahhh_ as they walked past, watching the living, breathing legends that looked back at them with curious, dispassionate eyes.

Simon left that evening, flying late into the night to climb into bed with his pregnant wife. The others stayed a week, but when they returned, they brought Darin with them.

"I thought you were the new Heir," Simon said in surprise, greeting his friend.

"I am, I am. Most of the Guard in the Palace are completely wrapped up in watching over Karlus, though. So after much discussion, we've decided to allow the old guard Standers like me, who were here during Mathinas and took the wrong vow, to decide whether to stay here and take the proper one, or to accept Fealty to me, and become my personal Guard." He sighed and pulled Simon aside. "This all feels so bizarre. I never once imagined this would happen to me. I guess I thought my father would become King and Dason would be his successor."

"Dason?" Simon asked.

"My little brother. He's sixteen. Father's second wife after my mom died."

"Ah, too young to be an effective King, especially against someone as treacherous as Theodore," Simon surmised.

"Look at you, the political wizard," Darin joked. "I guess once you've shoveled shit, you never forget how, huh? Maybe you can give me lessons."

They laughed and then turned to see one of the Patrol Riders coming in with great haste.

"Hi Saraiah, what's going on?"

"Simon, do you know where Alistair is? That group up on the mountain have pulled up their tents. They're heading this way, and they're all armed. Even the kids are armed to the teeth," she told him, her voice filled with worry.

Simon sighed. "What else can go wrong?" he asked rhetorically.

"Pip?" he asked the sunning copper dragon.

"Hmmm?" came the answer.

"Can you find Alistair? One of the Riders needs to report. That group up the mountain is armed and moving our way now."

Instant awareness flooded Pip's mind. "Pip has informed the Father. Simon wishes to go and see with Pip?"

Simon grinned. He didn't get to ride very often now, and the prospect pleased him. "Yes," he said. "Let's do. Can you inform Blake and Senistraz?"

Simon excused himself, wishing Darin luck in recruiting enough Standers to get himself a proper escort. He affixed Pip's harness—yet another new one, as Pip continued to grow, now much larger than even Alistair. Then he was aboard, and Pip was aloft.

He watched the world through Pip's eyes and his special vision. It was rare anymore that he got visions of his wife, though he did tell her it had continued for him. It hadn't done for her, and he wondered secretly if maybe it was a sort of compensation for his own lost vision. But he loved to look through Pip's eyes, and that was one of the reasons he continued to fight both with and without that aid.

Now, though, he was flying once more and looking at the world with enhanced vision, and it was even more beautiful than he remembered. At length, the group came into sight, and he asked Pip to hone in closely on them.

He felt a shock of surprise and pure incredulity slam through him. So intense was his reaction that Pip roared in surprise.

"What distresses Simon?" he demanded.

"I'm not certain. Your vision is a little different from mine. Can you see them a bit more closely?"

"The Father does not wish the drakes to get close enough to be seen by them," Pip said dubiously.

"Well, you're not a drake," Simon argued.

Pip, sensing his rider's deep desire to see the group more closely reluctantly winged closer to the group, still high enough, though, to stay out of their range of sight.

"Pip," Simon thought. "Look at them!"

"Pip is looking," Pip said dryly, and pointedly.

"They look like me and Blake!"

Pip dipped his wing and lowered somewhat, to get a closer look. "They do!" he agreed. "They are Simon's people?" he asked.

"I'm not absolutely certain, but it seems the only logical explanation," Simon said. "The problem is, if they knew we were here, why didn't they send word to us? Why hide out here, rather than come in and greet us?"

Chilled by the question, they winged away, well aware that Saraiah's assertion was true—these people all carried weapons. Men, women, children, and elderly alike were armed. Most carried at least one, and many positively bristled with steel.

This was as fully armored a force as ever there had been, and they were headed en masse towards the Bronze Enclave. Not including the children and the elderly, there were easily close to ten thousand armed adults.

Pip relayed to Alistair all that they'd seen and realized, including that these might be Simon's people. The response was a simple question. "What if they think you were stolen, and they are here to retrieve you? No one speaks their language since Abbie died, we may not be able to get the truth across to them."

It was an even more chilling thought.

His heart heavy and his thoughts in turmoil, Simon rushed back to his wife and unborn children, filled with a sudden overwhelming protective instinct.

They no sooner landed than a massive fight with Darkspawn broke out, and Simon was some four hours late going to find his wife. It was the worst Darkspawn attack so far. With Darkspawn in their midst, an army no one could communicate with on the way, and civil war threatening, the Bronze and White Orders quickly began to feel beleaguered and overwhelmed.

Darin suggested that perhaps taking some of their forces for his own use was a bad idea, but Alistair and Velistara insisted, as did Simon and Blake. A kingdom at civil war would be no boon at all to the Orders. So he departed with a group of some thirty new Guards, another near hundred preparing to follow within a week.

Every day for the next three, the drakes continued to report significant progress of the armed group towards the Bronze Enclave and Margarite. On the fourth day, they were within sight, and by afternoon were near enough to be within range of their long bows.

There, they stopped, though. A small group consisting of one elderly woman, two men, an a younger woman rode out on small, tough mountain horses towards the walls of Margarite. They were flying a small white banner above a flag bearing a dragon perched on a mountain range with wings spread out.

Simon walked out to meet them, together with Alistair, Fordir, Velistara, and a Healer from the Pearl Magi.

"So it's true," the younger woman said as they reached hearing distance. "One of the Dragon's Claw clan lives. Where is your mate?"

"My wife," Simon replied, stressing the word firmly, "is heavy with child, and I would not put her into a situation such as this because of it."

"Do you suggest that we would harm the Matriarch of the Dragon's Claw?" the woman asked, surprise evident on every face of the small contingent. Then she added, "Must we shout at one another? We mean you no harm."

After some nervous discussion, Simon said, "You may approach. You will be safe so long as you do not draw weapons."

The group moved closer, but stopped when they were close enough to see Simon's eyes. Then they moved forward much more quickly.

"You are blind!" the old woman said. She sounded surprised, even almost fearful.

"Yes," Simon said.

"How can that be?" the younger asked. "Will the clans accept him?"

"They must," said the younger.

"Never," snarled one of the men.

Simon crossed his arms. "Accept me? Why would they need to accept me at all? I don't recall asking to be accepted. I have a life here that I'm very happy with."

"You do not understand," the elder woman told him. "The Patriarch of the Dragon's Claw Clan is the Arbiter of all the clans."

"Arbiter?" Simon asked, a sinking feeling running through him.

"Yes. You must settle disputes and ratify marriages as well as Sealings and betrothals at the Gatherings," she told him. "Have you not heard the songs as the People have celebrated betrothals, sealings, marriages, and births?"

"I'm not sure," Simon said. "I've heard something. Felt something. But I didn't know what it was."

"What have you felt?" she asked.

"Like a tugging? A pulling?" he said, trying to sort the feelings out. "Sometimes strong, usually mild."

"He is the Patriarch," the woman said. "There can be no doubt."

"No!" the man beside her said. "He's a blind fool! If he felt the pull, he would have responded to it!"

She turned to him, "You're just angry because you don't feel it yourself."

"Mind your tongue, old woman," he snapped back.

"He is the Patriarch, blind or not," the other man said.

"No!" the other yelled again. "I challenge him!"

There were gasps. "You would challenge a blind man?"

"I would challenge any man who seeks to usurp the Patriarchy! If he is too weak to be challenged, he is too weak to be Patriarch!"

"Salanzin, this is foolishness," snapped the elderly woman.

"If he thinks me weak," Simon snarled, "let him prove it."

"You don't know what you're saying, you don't know our ways. He is the best warrior of our clan. You cannot hope to defeat him," the old woman warned.

"If he's going to insult me—"

"Simon!" Alistair snapped at him. "Before you start brawling, shouldn't you listen first? Consider your wife, your children… Pip?"

"Is a challenge to the death?" he asked.

"Of course not," the elderly woman said. "We don't waste warriors that way. But—"

"Then let's get it over with," Simon said. "I'll show him 'weak'."

"Simon—" Alistair tried again.

"Stay out of this," Simon snapped. "No heals or poultices, agreed?"

"Fine," snarled Salanzin. He leaped down from his shaggy horse and the others separated.

"You accept the challenge?" he asked.

"Don't—" the old woman began.

"Yes," Simon said.

"If you lose, you will lose your wife, your Clan, your position, and all your possessions," she told him with a sigh.

"What?" Simon started, but Salanzin swung viciously at his head, and he ducked.

"Too late," the other man crowed. "You accepted the challenge."


	52. Triumph of the Darkspawn

_Thank you to Dasque! Her beta skills are EXACTLY what I was hoping for. She is truly 'leet. :D_

_Extra big thanks to alyssacousland for her kind words over on the Cheeky Monkeys forum. Thank you to sapphiretoes and Warrose, as well, for their comments and dedication to reading the story!

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**Part 52: Triumph of the Darkspawn**

Simon altered his vision, seeing through Pip's eyes, and Pip automatically shifted his view in closer so that Simon could see.

A second weapon appeared in Salanzin's other hand, a dagger. Simon bounced the dagger off of his shield and caught the attempt at a low, dirty maneuver from the sword with his own, wincing as the other man's sword skittered across his gauntlet, snaking through to leave a slight cut on his wrist between the joints.

He swung the shield hard, slamming it into Salanzin's chin, knocking the leather-clad man backwards a step and drawing blood. He pushed the advantage quickly, slamming him again, and when the other tried to dart sideways, slamming him yet another time, before settling back to get his own balance back.

The barbarian tried to work his way behind him, trying to walk quietly, but there was no fooling either Simon's enhanced hearing, nor Pip's eyes. Simon moved into a crouch, letting the other man move around to his side, deliberately weaving his head as though he couldn't tell where the other was.

His apparent weakness was Salanzin's vulnerable spot. He took the bait immediately, rushing towards Simon's seemingly unprotected side. Simon dropped low, sweeping his sword high for the expected parry. As soon as it landed, he slammed his shield into the other man's legs, knocking him onto his back and dropping a knee into his chest.

He pressed the sword against the other man's neck. "Yield," he told him.

Salanzin ignored the sword at his neck—he sensed Simon's weakness, an unwillingness to kill—and stabbed Simon in the side, under and between the plane of his chestpiece and the hinge of his legs piece.

Simon jerked away, slamming the shield brutally into Salanzin's face. The other lay gasping as Simon stomped down on his arm and jerked the dagger out of it, dropping it on the ground. He just as swiftly divested the barbarian of his sword.

Salanzin wasn't willing to give in, though, and swept Simon's feet out from under him. Simon fell, but he let the momentum of his fall send his foot into Salanzin's face, knocking him backwards away from the dagger he'd been reaching for.

Then he simply rolled, not trying to get up, and planted his knee on the other man's throat. He kept the pressure on just enough that Salanzin couldn't fight or struggle. "Yield," Simon told him. This time, it wasn't a request. As the barbarian glared at him, Simon slowly began to increase the pressure.

Finally, his face going red, he threw up his hands and gasped for air, "Okay!"

Simon got off of him, holding his badly bleeding side. He could barely walk, pain tearing through him like the raking talons of a furious drake.

He released his link with Pip's vision, too exhausted for the effort required to keep it open. He heard the Healer running toward him, and knew she would be in range in seconds. Too late, he heard the scrambling sound from behind, and then running footsteps—

Pip was there, landing hard on the field, his foreclaws on each side of his wounded Rider. He dropped his head into the path of the cheating barbarian, who had picked his dagger up and was running headlong for Simon's unprotected back.

He roared right in the man's face, every spine on his body rigid and standing up. He was a pure, savage demonstration of livid male Dragon. His wings spread with a growl of ferine rage, displaying absolute, deadly threat.

Even as the man fell and scrabbled backwards away from him, he reared and came down so heavily on his front claws that the ground trembled. He roared again, a warning and a violent promise.

Then his head turned and he stepped carefully away to allow the Healer into range to Heal Simon. As Simon slowly stood up, he leaned heavily against Pip.

He watched again through Pip's eyes, amazed as the group of barbarians, who had moved up during his battle with Salanzin, began to drop down onto one knee. One by one, then in pairs and in a growing tide, they knelt, bowing their heads as they faced Pip.

Within moments, even the children and elderly were kneeling in the same manner, all paying homage to Pippilinipini.

Pip lifted his head, gazing at them for a moment, before slowly lowering his head in acknowledgement of their action. They stood and began to talk excitedly.

The elderly woman stepped forward. "I am Mayah. Please forgive us, Great One. Salanzin has allowed fear to cloud his judgment. He has led the clans well, and I do not believe he is as evil as his actions show him to be here. He truly fears that a blind leader might weaken us. I do not excuse his actions, but I hope that you can try to understand them."

"Pip will not allow Salanzin to harm Simon. Simon won the battle. If Salanzin makes another attempt on Simon's life, Pippilinipini will destroy him."

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. It was clear she hadn't expected an actual response. She recovered and snapped her mouth shut. "Great one—Pip—we will not tolerate his actions. We will accept the judgment of the Patriarch, be it death, exile, or enslavement."

"Simon does not wish to be a Patriarch," Pip told her.

"It's not something you can wish or choose, Great One," she answered nervously. "It is what he is. It's part of his nature. He is the only remaining male of the Dragon's Claw Clan. We cannot designate it or undo it. Only death or a properly won Challenge can transfer it. He has already won the Challenge. This is unprecedented, and I doubt the outcome would be different if we tried again. The Challenge must be won honestly and with full effort by both parties, or the Patriarchy will not be passed. And I don't believe he wants to lose his wife and children, only in order to pass away the Patriarchy, anyway."

"What are—" Simon began.

He was interrupted as, without warning, the field erupted with Darkspawn. There were masses of them, and the tribes began to fight in earnest. It was everyone for themselves as they burst from under the ground in droves.

Pip was immediately over-run. Darkspawn clung to him, and he shrieked as he whipped his wings out and fought to lift off. He heaved mightily, breaking many of them loose, and lifted off with Darkspawn clinging to his legs and slicing at his belly.

He bellowed and roared as they dug at him, chittering and growling. He bit one Hurlock and threw it even as those below on the ground fought valiantly, getting in each other's way as they fought not to be overrun.

He managed to dislodge a Genlock, but he could get no altitude.

Alistair broke off his ground fight and altered even as he leapt. He swung near Pip and managed to bite one free, and knocked two more. He returned on another pass, but he could see blood raining down from Pip in a sheet as the Darkspawn sought to open him up and infect him with their blood.

The fighting on the ground intensified as the Darkspawn became more spread out, and more humans and elves, as well as a few dwarves, joined from Margarite.

Pip continued to shriek in agony as the Darkspawn tried to burrow into him. Finally, desperate in his pain and confused by the Darkspawn blood that was beginning to enter his system, he turned his head and belched liquid red acidic flame. It coated the Darkspawn and destroyed them swiftly.

But it also struck him, and although his scales resisted it, it entered into his wounds and it seared into a fragile wing.

Pip tumbled from the sky, landing with a strangled scream, barely managing to miss landing on anyone. Healers from the barbarians and the Orders alike rushed towards him as the fighting began to calm quickly.

"He's dying," Mayah said tersely as she inspected him with a spell. Then she turned towards Simon. "You have not tasted of his blood, have you?"

"No," Simon answered. "Of course not!"

"You fool!" Mayah barked at him. "That's the only way the Darkspawn cannot taint him! He must taste your blood, and you must taste his. It may be too late now!"


	53. Simon Versus the Darkspawn

_Since my beta reader has a lot of pressure on her in real life, I'm going to go ahead and post chapters. I will replace them with her awesome beta-ness should things settle down for her... or I might eventually stop being lazy and proofread them myself. :p I truly do not want her to feel pressured or overwhelmed, so I don't want her to feel like everyone's waiting on her to beta. She can make the choice to catch up, or to take up from where she gets time again as she so desires when the time comes. Hopefully knowing that there's no stress, expectation, or pressure from this direction will help her feel comfortable doing things at her own pace. *HUGE HUGS* for Dasque. I hope RL calms down for you quickly, dear lady._

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**Part 53: Simon Versus the Darkspawn**

"Open up," she said unceremoniously. When Simon did, she stuck two fingers covered in Pip's blood into his mouth.

"Ugh," Simon complained. "That's disgusting!"

Whatever she might have said in response was torn from him as the world dropped away and he was plunged into a nightmare.

"Simon?" It was Pip, but he was small again, squatting fearfully at Simon's feet.

Simon realized he could see again and that was how he knew he was in the Fade, or somewhere like it. He looked up to see a crowd of Darkspawn converging on them. He pulled his sword and shield out. Terrified, the tiny, newly-hatched sized Pip scampered up his leg and body to cling to his neck.

Hampered by Pip, Simon fought the oncoming Darkspawn. For what felt like hours, he hacked and slashed and parried. Exhaustion and pain pulled at him, and his wounds were extensive. Still they came, until at last, he feared he would fail Pip and they would both die.

As despair set in, he found himself focused solely on staying alive—keeping them both alive, really. When he ran out of Darkspawn abruptly, he looked up. And up. And up.

Another Pip towered over him. This Pip was blackened, shredded by his own battle with the Darkspawn. He was huge, and Simon instinctively realized this was his current, true size in life.

But this wasn't the loving friend he had come to rely on and treasure beyond words. This was a monster. This was a Pip that terrified Simon. He exuded evil as he turned to stare malevolently into his restored eyes.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" the Archdemon-Pip drawled. "A tasty morsel and the shred of an old life. How very droll."

"I was too late," Simon said. Despair rolled over him in waves and he sank to his knees. The world was doomed, and it was his fault. Pip was far larger than the other dragons. They might, maybe, stand a chance against him, but it would be a devastating fight.

"It's not the other dragons that have to fight me," Archdemon-Pip told him. "It's you. And you must do it burdened by your love for me and by your foolish faith that I would never betray you."

Simon realized he meant the small Pip that was wrapped around his throat and hampering his movements.

Archdemon-Pip altered and shifted into his human form. He raised his staff and cast a glyph at his feet.

Simon pulled his bow and arrow out, glad that the Fade didn't play by life's rules—or he wouldn't have had them anymore. He fired at Pip until the glyph faded, ignoring the biting sting of the spells Pip cast at him.

When Pip cast a glyph and a rejuvenate on himself, Simon cast Cleanse, wiping it all away. The human-Pip snarled, casting several fireballs at Simon, who withstood them stoically. He hammered at Pip through the onslaught, finally hitting him with the shield so hard it knocked him backwards.

Before he could climb back to his feet, Simon was on him, hacking and slashing.

Human-Pip managed to get up, and froze Simon in place. Simon knew that he was near death. He felt a tear escape his frozen eye, and he reached out to the Pip on his shoulder with his mind. "I'm sorry, dear Pip. I'm so sorry. I love you."

From a great distance, he felt darkness coming as another bolt of fire ripped through him. Then fire filled his vision again, but he could close his eyes. He did, waiting for the fierce burning that never came.

He opened his eyes to see Pip standing in the Fade. He was in Dragon form, wounded but alive.

His head swung towards Simon. "Simon is alive."

"Yes," Simon agreed. "Unfortunately." He winced as agony blew through him when he tried to sit up. "I'm not sure how…" He let it hang between them as a question.

"Pip saw Simon's love for him as a burden to Simon. Pip thought Simon could accomplish more without Pip. But in the end, when Simon was dying, he showed Pip something important and helped Pip become himself again."

Simon clasped his head as pain shot through it again. "And what did I show you?"

"Simon showed Pip that love is not a burden. Simon showed Pip that Simon's love is why Pip is powerful and strong." Pip reached out and nudged Simon slightly with his nose.

At Pip's touch, Simon found his pain eased. He reached up and patted Pip's muzzle.

"Is Simon ready to go back now?"

"Did we win?"

"Yes. Simon and Pip won." There was a smile in Pip's mental voice.

"_Okay. Let's go back, then," Simon agreed._


	54. Quicksilver Changes

**Part 54: Quicksilver Changes**

Simon tried to sit up, holding his head and sinking back down as it pounded with pain.

"Here," he was told, and he felt something against his lips. Going by the smell, he figured it would taste wretched.

He was right. He drank it and his stomach rebelled. Fighting the nausea, he sat up. "Pip?"

"He'll be okay. He'll have some scarring, I'm afraid even with magic that can't be undone. It'll be some months before he'll use that wing again. But he's going to be okay."

"How is it that you know so much about dragons, Mayah?"

He felt her sit down on the bed beside him. He didn't remember getting to a bed.

"It's who I am. Patriarch is who you are. Dragon's Advocate is who I am. There has always been a Dragon's Advocate in the Squaminish, there's just never been a dragon before." She squeezed his shoulder and then he heard what sounded like her putting herbs back into a pack.

"I think I went into the Fade." He eased back down on the bed; his head was throbbing too much to stay sitting up.

"You two had to fight the taint in him together. If you had been bonded properly from the start, that never would have become necessary."

She sat down again, and he could tell by her movements that she was restless, perhaps even nervous.

"I understand you are the leader of this camp?" Her voice was slightly strained, and Simon felt himself stiffen.

"Yes."

"Now that there are Dragons, our wandering days are at an end." She sounded sad, but with an underlying note of resignation and acceptance. "You will have to make a place for our people. We won't be leaving."

Simon sighed and then groaned as it drove a spike through his temple. "Why can't it ever just be easy?"

She chuckled. "The One does not want to bore you, I think. Life is meant to be exciting."

"Can't The One manage 'exciting' without the blindness, the Darkspawn, the civil wars?"

"Do these people you have grown up among tell stories?" she asked him.

"What? Well, we have books," he answered, puzzled at the strange turn the conversation had taken.

"A story told with no challenges for the characters to overcome bores people and they quickly wander away. But stories with darkness and challenges fascinate people endlessly. Perhaps the failing is not in The One, but in us. However, I grant you this. Better to experience these things in stories—or books—than in person."

She got up and walked towards the door. She turned back and said, "There is an ancient Squaminish curse. 'May your story be told and retold until the end of time'."

"How is that a curse?" Simon asked. "Most people would love to be immortalized."

She laughed. "You ask me that after that conversation? It's a curse because the greater your suffering, the longer you will be remembered by history. Those with simple lives are soon forgotten."

She left the room, and Simon lay wondering just how long History would talk about the blind Rider who let his dragon be scarred by Darkspawn. Guilt ate at him. If only he'd known. He should have thought of it…

He felt Pip sleeping, so he didn't disturb him. It wasn't long before he followed him into slumber, anyway.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he was awakened by shouts and running feet. He must have been asleep for quite some time, though, he surmised, because his headache was nearly gone.

He dressed quickly, grateful that someone had put his clothes in their customary position in the chair beside the bed so he didn't have to hunt. Within minutes he was dressed and out the door to find out what the commotion was.

The sound of battle drew him. Unfortunately, by the time he got there, the fight was over, but the unmistakable scent of Darkspawn hung in the air with its heavy, sickly-sweet odor of rotting carrion combined with a musty fungal scent, and sulphur.

"Another Darkspawn attack?" he asked the corridor at random.

"Yes," someone answered. The voice was unfamiliar, and the accent heavy—it was one of the Squaminish, he was certain.

"Do all Squaminish know Common?" he asked.

When the answer came, it was said with a certain amount of arrogance and disdain. "We all learn it, yes. It isn't as if any of you people would ever learn our language, so we had to do it."

Simon decided to ignore the hostile tone. "I'm really grateful to be able to communicate clearly with you. Do you happen to know where Mayah is?"

"She is with the pregnant Matriarch," came the answer from a different direction.

Simon scowled. "Her name is 'Blake'," he told the offending male voice. Then he realized he recognized that voice. "If you prefer not to speak of her in a respectful manner, you can leave, Salanzin. I don't really want you here, anyway. You're a treacherous, untrustworthy, arrogant prick. I don't know why you're running around free to begin with."

He heard footsteps coming toward him and wished for Pip's vision. He pulled his sword and shield out.

"You would attack me unprovoked?" asked Salanzin.

"I would defend myself against a man who would stab me in the back after a properly-won duel."

"I never said I yielded," Salanzin told him. "Not once did I say the words."

"Yet you know that 'okay' means agreement, and I demanded you yield."

"You're right. I purposely tricked you. I told myself that if you could be tricked, you were unworthy. But I've thought about it a lot since, and I realize that you did me an honor by trusting my word. I was wrong. You have nothing to fear from me, ever. My loyalty is yours without fail and without regret, Patriarch."

Simon heard him walking away and listened in surprise. Others joined him, and he realized they'd had a fascinated audience.

He stumbled a few times over Darkspawn corpses, but managed to make his way towards his wife's 'rest' antechamber near the humid incubation chamber. As he neared, he caught Alistair's voice.

"What's with all the half-naked men in here?" Alistair was asking someone.

"They are here to assist in protecting the eggs," Velistara answered.

"Why are we trusting them? We just met them two days ago!" Simon's brows rose at Alistair's agitated pronouncement.

"Pip has vetted them. If you wish to argue with him, you are free to do so," came the pert answer. Then Velistara noticed him, "Simon! You are up!"

"Did I hear Alistair say 'two days'?" Simon asked, hugging her as her arms went around him. Letting go, he stepped back a step, wishing for a wall to lean against.

"Yes. Come inside," she responded, looping her arm through his and guiding him into the chamber where Blake had a soft couch to lie on while she visited the hatchery. When he was seated, she eased into a chair beside him, her voice low. "Blake sleeps," she warned him before answering his question. "It was over a half a day before you and Pip emerged from the Fade. Even after that, you were quite ill. Pip informed us that the fighting in the Fade was intense."

"Yes." It was all he could muster, though it didn't really do the truth justice. "But why were there Darkspawn in the hallway on my way here? They shouldn't be after him anymore."

"Senistraz must bond Blake in the same way. But it cannot be done while she remains with child. The bonding would cross the barrier, and the results of that are unknown."

Simon thought for a while. "It's three weeks until Blake is due for the earliest safe labor. The eggs have a good two to five weeks past that. Perhaps if we sent Senistraz somewhere for those two weeks, the Darkspawn would try to follow her away from here. By the time she could come back, Blake could blood-bond her then."

He heard Velistara's sudden sharp movement. "That's brilliant, Simon! If she were to roost between here and Orzammar in the mountains, and move every day, she could keep them on the move and away from us. Let me speak with Alistair and Senistraz. That could work!"

Simon heard Mayah before she spoke, and turned toward the doorway. "She could return after that. The blood bond will not cross into the milk. Or so my teachings claim. It is a good idea."

She came in and Simon heard the faint hum of magic and the whispering of the chant of a spell. "She rests well." Mayah came over towards them then, her leather-clad feet slap-slapping on the stone floor. "I understand you've won Salanzin over. That's impressive. I hope you won't be too hard on him. Despite not having the Patriarch senses, he has been a fair and wise leader."

"Really?" Simon asked. An idea took root in his mind and began to spread tendrils out. The Squaminish were there to stay, and Salanzin was an equitable leader… It was something to consider. After the birth of his children, the hatching of the eggs, and the crowning of Darin…. He sighed heavily. Maybe sooner.


	55. First Contractions

**Part 55: First Contractions**

Simon smiled as his baby kicked him in the face yet again. "They're restless today," he told his wife.

Blake sighed. "I wish they were restless enough to come out."

They were nearing their due date, rather than coming early as Mayah had predicted. There was even discussion now of what to do if they were born at the same time that the eggs hatched, since those were now at their own earliest possible hatching time.

"I know. Mayah says they'll come out when they're ready, and not a day before or after." He rubbed the mountain of her belly gently. Another kick bounced his hand away.

"I'm tired of being pregnant. Fat and wobbly and tired. I'm glad you can't see me anymore, you'd probably run for Pip and fly to Antiva."

"I still see you. The visions never went away for me. And you're still the tastiest morsel of… uh… tastiness I've ever seen."

She chuckled slightly. "Tastiest morsel of tastiness? Is that the best you can come up with?"

"I'm only fast on my feet when I'm fighting, lovely lady. If you want me to be suave, I'm afraid you have to give me a week's warning and a few poetry books."

"I'm rather glad. If you were suave, you could have gone through all the women of the fortress when we younger, and probably the Thaig and beyond, too. You should see the way the girls carry on around the Squaminish men."

"I was never popular like that." He chuckled at her fancy.

"Yes, you were. You were just oblivious to it." She curled her fingers through his hair. "Wishing you'd had your chance to fool around before getting married?"

He outright laughed at that. "No, actually, I was thinking how much I missed sneaking around with my lovely wife to steal kisses in corridors and even closets. Ah, the days when we could be gone for hours and not a single person would hunt us down to whine, complain, or demand. I could ravage you for hours," he kissed her, "and hours," he kissed her again.

Then he ran his hands over her belly. "You're even more beautiful to me now than you were then," he told her quietly. "I also can't wait to see our children born, yet you are truly beautiful carrying them inside you, giving them life."

He changed the subject, "I know you miss Senistraz, so I thought maybe today we could—"

"Oh no. Oh, not right now! Why now?"

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking—"

"Not you. The babies!"

"The babies?"

"I wasn't sure, but I'm definitely having contractions. Can you get Mayah, please?"

"Oh. Oh! Babies!" he jumped up and headed for the door, smacking into the side of it with his shoulder in his haste and excitement.

"The babies! The babies are coming!"

Blake winced as he rushed down the hallway, bumping into people on the way, yelling for Mayah and repeating the same thing over and over again. Another contraction rippled through her, and she called for Senistraz, hoping she could make it back in time for the birth.

Simon returned some time later with Mayah in tow. "I found her!" he announced like a five year old that just caught his first nug.

"Okay, what do you need me to do?" Simon demanded a moment later as Mayah began feeling Blake's belly, wringing his hands and dancing back and forth from foot to foot.

"Go find something to do for a few hours," Mayah told him. "She's still only in early labor."

"What? Do what? What am I supposed to do?" Simon bounced some more.

"Why don't you tell Senistraz and fly out to meet her. By the time you get back, she should be in a better stage of labor, and you can help more. For now, she mostly just needs peace and quiet. And you are neither peaceful, nor quiet."

Simon stood scowling. Finally, he humphed and turned to leave. "Fine, kick me out. But I'll be back!"

He harnessed Pip and climbed on board. Pip expressed concern over the eggs, but there had been no Darkspawn incursions since Senistraz had led them away. So far there had been no disturbances around the eggs, either.

But Simon paused, anyway. "Wait, I'll be right back," he told Pip, climbing down.

He asked one of the Guardians at the entrance where Salanzin could be found. He had spent a lot of time talking with the other warrior, and he'd come to trust his judgment about various people of interest among the clans.

Despite all that had happened between them, he felt honestly that Salanzin had challenged him not so much to challenge him, but more to protect clan and kin. That was a motivation he could understand, although he'd made it clear that he couldn't appreciate the actual actions that had resulted.

Salanzin was the perfect person, in Simon's mind, to watch over the eggs while he and Pip were gone. It would be a couple of hours, most likely, so he wanted someone strong and authoritative to keep order in the Bronze Enclave.

Salanzin bowed when he saw Simon coming, despite the fact that the other man couldn't see it.

"Blake has started labor. I'm told it'll be hours before I'm needed, so I'm going to go and meet Senistraz on her way back for the birth. I would appreciate it if you would take charge here until I return."

"Me? Are you certain? After what happened, I don't think I'm the best choice, am I?"

"I recognize it was a real lapse in judgment," Simon told him. "But so far as I can tell, it's not something you're prone to on a regular basis. I really need someone with a firm but fair hand. It's only a few hours, anyway. I just don't want those eggs disturbed."

When Simon mounted Pip again, they lifted off immediately. Pip leaned into the warm wind, wings pumping hard. Simon grinned. "Missing your mate?"

"Yes," came the mental response as they sped across the mountains.

It was, as he expected, a couple of hours later before they saw her shimmering form in the distance. Pip's muscles pumped harder now that his goal was in sight, and he positively zipped across the land, tilting dizzily to avoid brushing mountaintops or outcroppings of rock.

When they were near, he slowed dramatically, hovering slightly and roaring in unmasked joy. She drew nearer and they twirled and danced, hampered slightly by Simon. Finally, unwilling to be so restrained any longer, Pip cocooned Simon in an immobilizing spell and danced in the air with his mate.

Their bodies flickered and flashed as they wove an intricate greeting, weaving in and out between, around, and under each other.

At last, their fervent joy well expressed, they turned back towards the Enclave. They had been flying, slowly and still with the occasional dizzying display for only a short time when Alistair's alarm reached them.

"There's an army approaching quickly from the West, and several contingents from the East as well! The King's carriage is fleeing ahead of them, but they won't beat the army by very much. It's a fast, forced march, according to the drake patrols. I need you here now!"

So Senistraz and Pip left their play and bent towards reaching the Enclave as quickly as they could. But as they pushed forward, they found themselves being beaten back by increasing winds.

"Weather magic," Senistraz told them. "Senistraz can smell it in the air. This is blood magic, and very, very powerful."

"_How could they know we're here?" was Simon's question._


	56. Labor

**Part 56: Labor**

"Scrying." She said it curtly, sharply.

"More blood magic." Simon felt fear run down his spine, a winnowing snake of darkness.

Wind and rain was buffeting them so hard now that they were being tossed backward, barely making headway against the raging wind.

"Pip and Senistraz will run," Pip told Simon.

The pair landed hard, then began to run, leaping from rock to rock at times. Simon could only cling like a burr as Pip galloped across stony outcroppings and literally grabbed the tops of trees to get leverage as he passed over an evergreen forest.

The winds roared harder, and hail began to pelt them. Simon held his shield with both arms as Pip once more immobilized him from the waist down to keep him seated. The trio continued toward their home, the dragons less effected by the wind, rain and hail once on the ground.

After a couple of hours had passed, the gale force winds began to die down and they were finally able to take to the air again. Simon was exhausted from the rough ride, his body bruised and aching. But they were on the way home, so he bore it as they were buffeted by skies still rough with weather.

"The eggs are rocking and will hatch soon," came Alistair's mental call. "The King and Darin are nearly here, but the armies are catching up to them. Blake is still in labor. Where are you? You should have been back hours ago."

Simon filled him in on the storm and the sense Senistraz had of blood magic. The word that came back from Alistair's end was quite coarse.

"Well, hurry. Things are heating up fast here," the Elder Drake added.

Simon groaned as Pip pushed even harder against the prevailing winds. He ducked and shivered, clinging in resignation.

Another hour passed, and this time it was Velistara whose mind touched Pip's. "Darkspawn!"

"Darkspawn?" Simon asked, raising his head, as if to see them right in front of them—or hear them, as the case may be.

"Yes, Darkspawn! Everywhere!" She sounded desperate and terrified. "Hurry! I think they're after Senistraz' eggs! The eggs are cracking even now, and drakelings will break free soon!"

Senistraz was already straining, her smaller form pushing hard against the inclement weather.

"It's as if someone knew," she said. "Knew where Senistraz was, knew Pip was gone, and that the eggs would be hatching."

Simon felt like weeping with frustration.

"Go, Pip. Pip is much faster than Senistraz. Go, save the eggs, save all of the children of Loyalty and Reason," Senistraz urged, and Simon felt the knowledge that she included his own children.

Pip balked for a moment, but then reluctantly pushed ahead of her. Then, as if some threshold had been crossed, he poured power into his wings. The scar tissue pulled some, but he ignored the discomfort, streaking towards the Enclave with all of his massive strength.

They drew nearer, and the weather broke. It was late and the sun threw long shadows across the land, ominous and reaching like crooked, twisted fingers. Pip's vision zeroed in on the field beyond the walls that had built up around the Bronze Enclave. A battle raged there, unlike anything Simon had ever seen.

There were soldiers in the copper color of the Bronze Order, the shimmering silver of the Pearl Order with the pale green crest, the white of the White Order, and the gold of Justice. They were surrounded on every side by Templars, royal legions, Circle mages, and Darkspawn.

The warriors of the Orders had turned on the Darkspawn, but to their horror, Simon and Pip realized at the same time that the Templars, the Circle Mages, the Legions… were all continuing to attack the Orders.

Beyond the main fight, Pip saw the heat signature of more soldiers, and once more narrowed his vision. These were more Legions. More Darkspawn were also approaching, completely ignoring the Legions and heading for the walls of the Enclave—the last bastion before the Thaig and the Fortress of the White Orders.

Knots of Squaminish were visible in the melee, weapons dancing as they plowed great swaths through Darkspawn, Templars, Mages, and Legionnaires alike.

Then Simon saw it, and he and Pip felt the same disgust at the same time as they saw it together. Lumbering across the field was a horror that made Simon's blood run cold and his breath catch.

It looked like nothing so much as a long worm, its body bulging and sluggish as it flopped, dragging itself through the mess. On each side of its open maw were two hornlike protrusions that curled inwards. The monster would latch onto anything in its path with these pincher-like protrusions, shoving them towards the open, circular mouth.

The slavering maw was lined in circle after circle of sharp, inward-curving teeth. As a person was pushed into the mouth, the teeth sank in, slicing easily into metal and skin alike. The brutal teeth would push them deeper into the mouth, with no possibility of escape.

It was devastating everything in front of it. Entirely indiscriminate, it sucked up human, dwarf, elf, and Darkspawn alike with equal lust. A tree was even seen to disappear into it as Pip rushed towards the humping, writhing monstrosity.

It was lumbering toward the heaviest part of the fighting, and the enemy soldiers were moving away almost as if they had expected it. Simon's heart ached as he saw several White Order mages devoured as they stood trying to heal a Guardian who was under heavy attack from Templars and Darkspawn.

Then the Templars and the Darkspawn vanished, as well as the unfortunate Guardian.

Too late for them, Pip reached the monster and belched acid at it, following the length of its bulging, grotesque body. The acid poured into it, sizzling and steaming. The acid left a path of destruction down the middle of it, and Pip's claws aided it in gaining entry as they scraped gouges into its supine form.

As they turned and flew back to hit it again, Simon saw eviscerated, masticated body parts falling out of the side of the perverse monstrosity, and realized that they'd punctured its stomach. The thing continued on, now enraged and thrashing, still consuming everything it came into contact with. Body parts continued to sluice out of the torn stomach even as Pip hit it again with more acid. Fumes rose from the thrashing monster as it made a strangely draconic sounding scream of pain and fury.

On the third pass, the horrific thing ceased to thrash and fight, body parts, partially melted and chewed armor, acid, and gore spreading out around it in a growing puddle.

Pip turned his attention toward the encroaching Darkspawn and laid down path after path of acidic fire through the midst of them. The fumes and the acid alike killed as he blazed over them, twisting away from ballista bolts and struggling to keep from the range of their biting arrows and crossbow quarrels.

They looked up to see that Senistraz was changing the course of the battle at the front by simply freezing everyone. Then the dwarves were charging the field and shattering enemies with their powerful hammers and axes.

Night had fallen, and they saw the punctuation of fire, yellow here, white there; Alistair and Velistara were doing their best to destroy the encroaching Darkspawn and push back the remaining Legions.

Simon heard Velistara's terrified shriek, and urged Pip to seek her. They followed the white flares of fire, to find another of the hideous beasts flopping across the ground towards a knot of heavy fighting.

"I can do nothing!" Velistara cried in their minds. "It doesn't even notice my flame!"

Pip banked down and blasted it with acid. This one, apparently somewhat less mindless than its counterpart, attempted to lurch upward and catch him as he swept away. On the second pass, it came within mere inches of his tail. On the third pass, it was too weak, and seconds after that, it was dead.

"There is another," she warned them. She showed the monster in an image, and they winged across the field. This one was nearing Margarite. If it made it, the devastation would be immense.

They were nearly too late. It was close enough that it had already begun to decimate a homestead when Pip swooped down on it. Simon's head was snapped backwards as Pip grappled the monstrosity, gripping it just behind the hideous, dangerous mouth.

Laboring heavily, he dropped it in the midst of an oncoming Legion. They scattered and ran, and Pip destroyed it, his thoughts colored by a dark satisfaction at using their own monsters against them.

"Pip!" It was Mayah's mental voice. "If you can hear me, help us! There are enemies at the hatchery!"

Pip roared, a deep, resonant bugle that sent nearby people fleeing. He ignored them, turning in as tight a circle as he could manage to wing towards the castle with as much speed as he could muster.

At his imperious command, the other dragons also turned towards the hatchery, none of them questioning his powerful mental demand. "Save the children!"

Inside, Blake panted and screamed as another contraction tore through her while just feet away, Salanzin ducked again as a sword narrowly missed his head.


	57. Delivery

**Part 57: Delivery**

Pip didn't even wait for Simon to dismount. He simply climbed into the incubation chamber, dropped towards the ground, and shifted. They both landed with nearly identical "umph" sounds.

The unfortunate part was that Simon no longer had Pip's eyes to help him in the heat of the battle. He moved towards where he knew the chamber would be, alert to any sounds close to him.

When he heard the swishing sound of a sword, he blocked it with a vicious snap of his shield, bringing his sword up to slash once, twice, and three times at the offender. A gurgle informed him that he'd scored a fatal hit, and he took the time to ensure that the other wouldn't try any last second heroics before heading directly towards his wife's chamber, where he knew she would be birthing their children.

He stumbled on corpses here and there, but nearly made it to the doorway when he stumbled again. This time, the object of his blindness peeped at him plaintively. He reached down and scooped the drakeling up.

"Come with me, little one. Wait to bond until this is over. Eat nothing here, I promise we will get you good food soon." The small creature 'peeped' again and burrowed into his arm. "Don't worry, little guy, I'll take care of you."

He heard Salanzin's grunts as he fought at the entrance of the chamber. "Speak up if you're with me," he said loudly. Several voices sounded, and he heard grunts from in front of him.

He jumped into the fray, and the men with Salanzin made sure to speak up if he attacked them. However, the enemy quickly picked up on it, and tried to fool him. Unfortunately for them, he wasn't that easily fooled—all their attempts did was help him find them more easily.

The stress levels in the voices of those trying to impersonate was much greater. Not to mention the fact that Simon could well remember almost every voice he'd heard since he went blind. Additionally, most of the Ferelden men were smaller, while the height of the voices of the Squaminish couldn't be copied.

At last, with drakeling in one hand, sword in the other, he managed to make it into the birthing chamber.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. Shirra was there, for what purpose, Simon had no idea. But the drakeling screeched and squirmed until he let it down, and he heard it padding with all haste towards her, and heard her crooning softly to it.

He heard a baby crying. He heard his wife cursing the day he was born. He heard drakelings being deposited into the room from the chamber beyond. He heard Alistair's battle shout from the hatchery.

But all he could think about, all he cared about, was the baby and his wife. "Are you okay?" he asked Blake, stumbling to her bedside.

To his surprise, her fist connected with his face with a surprising strength.

"I'm dying!" she shrieked. "I hate you! I will never, ever, ever have another baby. Do you hear me? You are never touching me again!"

The look on his face must have been almost as shocked as he felt, because Mayah told him, "Oh stop, Simon. Every woman says that. Although, granted, most don't hit their husbands. But you seem to have a special touch."

A bundle was thrust into his hands. "Hold your daughter, the other's on the way out." Mayah turned back to Blake again. "Push, girl! If you have enough energy to hit your husband, you have enough energy to push. Now push!"

Simon held the small, wailing bundle in his hands, sitting there on the cold stone floor of the chamber, with drakelings squeaking and peeping all around him and the sound of his wife's wails in his ears. She had four fingers and a thumb on her right hand. She had four fingers and a thumb on her left hand.

He felt lower; two arms, two legs. Ten toes, properly distributed. Soft hair on her head and a firm grip of his thumb, which was being tugged toward her mouth. He resisted because he was filthy with Darkspawn blood and she, like her mother, cursed him in her own way for being a twice-baked chunk of week-old nug meat. At the top of her lungs, she scolded him, which actually sounded more like a cat mewling than the shrieking of a baby.

"Here, hold your son," he was told. His daughter vanished and was replaced by a new bundle.

The battle raged around him, but he didn't care. He was lost in the moment of meeting his babies for the first time.

"Simon." He turned in Blake's general direction. "They're here! Our babies are here!"

He managed a smile—albeit a rather scared one. Was he about to be hit again?

"They both have so much blond hair!" she told him.

He grinned.

Then he realized Shirra had come up to him while he was lost in meeting his children.

"Simon," she said, her voice filled with awe and peace.

He blinked, turning his face towards her. She sounded strangely lucid.

"Thank you. You found my dragon. Her name is Zephanille."

"I—what?" He couldn't believe his ears.

"She told me in the Fade that she would be back. She had to go to her egg, so she couldn't be with me in the Fade like most. But she gave me something to hold onto. And now she's back."

A soft 'peep!' accompanied her words, and he reached out. A drakeling head nudged into his hand.

"She's not upset that you called her a guy, and she says she would have come back through Velistara, but she didn't want to wait that long for me. By the way, congratulations from us both on your babies!"

Running footsteps stopping in the doorway caught their attention. It was Pip. "The Darkspawn have retreated, and so have the legions and the Chantry. There are crews cleaning up right now. The King and Darin are in the White Fortress, the dwarves got them through the Thaig to safety."

Then he walked into the room, with a gasp. "Our children are all here!"

"No," someone told him. "Two drakes are missing."

A devastated silence fell over the room for a moment. "Maybe they went and found their bond-mates already?" Shirra suggested.

"Pip hopes so," Pip said, his voice registering that hope with profound clarity.

He ran from the room to get meat to feed the drakelings then.

"I think I've had the most indecent, undignified birthing ever," Blake grumbled sourly.

"Perhaps," Mayah said. She handed took their daughter and handed Blake her son so he could have his turn to nurse. "But at least you are all three alive."


	58. When Truth Hurts

**Part 58: When Truth Hurts**

Alistair came into the room. "Mayah, we need you."

She went with him, leaving Blake and the babies sleeping, and Simon beside them, feeding drakelings.

"What can I do for you, Great One?" she asked Alistair.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Please don't call me that."

"Are you not a Dragon, then?" she asked him.

He shifted and ran a hand down his face, grimacing as dried blood flaked off of it. "Yes, I am, but I was human first." At her raised eyebrow, he said, "Long story. Anyway, Pip wants to take a look at these monstrosities. He won't tell me why, he doesn't want to taint the outcome of your inspection."

"Very well, Great One."

Alistair sighed heavily and led her out into the battlefield. When they approached the first monstrosity, she said, "Oh dear!" and covered her nose and mouth with the neckline of her tunic.

"Yeah, the stench is remarkable," Alistair agreed.

"Great One," Mayah greeted Pip. "You wish me to inspect these wretched things?"

Pip nodded, then in a gesture so much like Alistair that Velistara started from the other side of the monster's corpse, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Pip has a suspicion about their origin. But he needs you to confirm or deny it, please." Pip waved a hand at the stinking corpse.

Mayah turned and began to scan magically into the monster's corpse. Then she gasped and jerked away as if stung. Her face contorted as she said, "That was a drake!"

Pip made a fist. "Damn!"

The others looked at him in surprise. They'd never heard him utter a coarse word before.

"It's just as Pip suspected. Remember that Pip sensed five drakes who were all a void? One turned out to be Fate. Pip thinks this is three of the others. But what worries Pip most is that there remains one more."

They couldn't miss the fact that he did look deeply worried.

"How did the Darkspawn get their hands on drakes?" Mayah asked.

"I suspect they hatched after we threw their eggs in the rubbish heap," Alistair answered, his voice hollow and regretful. "And when they wandered off to find Riders, they ran into Darkspawn on the way. That's especially likely if they wandered through the Thaig. And the Darkspawn will pretty much taint anything they get their hands on."

"The rubbish heap?" Mayah sounded positively horrified.

"Yes. We didn't realize the discolored eggs were hatching late. We thought they weren't viable," he answered her.

Alistair walked up to the creature and inspected it more closely. It had scales, though they were distorted and protruded. Its body was vaguely drake-shaped, if a drake were to become severely obese to the point of being unable to walk. Small vestigial limbs protruded from the back, and he realized the front 'fang-like' pinchers were probably once forelegs.

He fought back tears and said, "The sins of the father are visited upon the sons and daughters."

Pip walked up to him and clasped him on the shoulder. "The Father has worked hard to make amends for his error. He must not see this as punishment."

"Why did the Maker do this? How could he not know I would be an awful dragon?" Alistair agonized.

"The One who made us does not expect the Father to be perfect. Only the Father expects that of himself. Pip would remind the Father that Pip is a good son. Senistraz is a good daughter. The Father has many drake sons and daughters who fought well in the battle to save the young races." Pip's eyes met Alistair's sympathetically as Velistara's arms slipped around her mate.

Alistair managed a chuckle. "And you're not even a bit arrogant, either." He smirked half-heartedly at Pip.

Pip stepped back and shifted into dragon form. "Pip is too perfect to be arrogant," he broadcasted for all in the near area to hear.

As he flapped away back toward the Enclave, those left behind found themselves laughing aloud.

Sobering a few moments later, though, Alistair told Velistara, "We should go clean up and have a talk with King Karlus and Ser Darin. There was a lot of blood magic happening here, and somehow they lost control of the Legions. A lot of explaining is in order."

Velistara nodded and turned to Mayah. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome. It does make one wonder, though. Why don't the feral drakes bond as your children do?"

"Why don't they grow wings, either?" Velistara shrugged. "I can't answer those questions."

"You are also much larger than the high dragons," Mayah told them. She seemed prepared to continue, but Alistair interrupted her.

"We know the answer to that. It's because of Love. When a dragon is loved, we grow much larger."

"Pip is the largest, does that mean he is the best loved, then?" Mayah pondered.

"No, I do not think so," Velistara told her. "I was fully mature when I met Alistair. I did not get much larger, although his love, and of friends and the Order, seems to heal me very quickly. I had also been revered before entering hibernation stasis. Alistair was also fully mature. He did get a bit larger, but not much. He also heals more quickly in the face of the appreciation his own Order gives to him. Pip was loved from the beginning of his life until now. Senistraz was loved, but her growth was stunted by other circumstances which I am sure Blake or Pip could explain to you at a more convenient time."

"Thank you. This confirms some of my teachings, clarifies some, and alters some things. I will go see to the children and we will need to get the hatchlings bonded very soon. Two are missing."

Alistair groaned. "Thank you, Mayah. I'm glad you're here. Your wisdom and knowledge have been invaluable."

Alistair and Velistara returned to the White Fortress while Mayah turned back to the Bronze Enclave.


	59. The Revered Liberator

**Part 59: The Revered Liberator**

"No!" Darin's voice interrupted their heated discussion as he came into the room. "It has nothing to do Theodore, except that he's a pawn in the whole thing."

"How can you say that? His standard was all over the field," Alistair argued.

"Yes, but so was the Chantry, and the Magi. And there's a reason for that." Darin sat down at the table, pointing to a chair beside him.

A young Templar sat down beside him, and Alistair glared at the newcomer with open dislike.

"Alistair?" Darin demanded.

"I know it can't be, but… he looks like Cullen, who—"

"I know what my grandfather did, and what he was responsible for. As well as why. I've been consigned to the Chantry because of it, and no one has ever let me forget it," the young Templar told him. "I'm not trying to escape my past, I simply believe what the Revered Mother is doing is wrong."

"Alright, well. Let's put Cullen aside and get to the bottom of this, shall we?" Simon suggested.

The others knew he was impatient to get back to Blake and their children.

"This is Powell," Darin introduced the Templar. "He defected a month ago. If he hadn't rushed to us and informed us, Karlus and I would be dead right now. Please listen to what he has to say."

"The Revered Mother is calling herself 'The Liberator', and trying to—"

"Wait," Simon interrupted. "I thought Senathin was this 'Liberator'."

"That's what she allowed us to think, to protect the Revered Mother," Darin informed him. "Just listen. Please."

"Revered Mother Fairalin is trying to destroy the Dragons. All of them. She wants to use the drakes, and destroy the Dragons. She says that Dragons—whether friendly to us or feral—are the betrayers of the Maker and of Mankind. They are the epitome of evil. She's been spreading this rhetoric far and wide.

"But she hasn't stopped at spreading the rhetoric. She has been active. She's recruiting people for 'special' missions. Those missions are hunting down blood mages. I was selected for one, and we had to hunt down the blood mages—but not kill them. Instead, we were to try to find any family they had and bring all of them back.

"When we found the two mages we were after, they were young and in love. They weren't even blood mages, really, just Apostates who wanted to be able to be together. They took her captive and told him that if he obeyed, she would be set free—if not, she would be killed. He was the more powerful mage, so—"

Alistair broke in. "They should have come to us. They can marry here, even have children if they so desire, and raise them together."

"Haven't you noticed that the number of mages coming has decreased significantly?" Powell asked him.

"Yes," Alistair told him. "We know the Circle is hunting them down and taking them hostage." His voice was tired, angry.

"The Chantry has Templars watching this place. When mages try to come here, they are beaten or killed. Even families with their children. So mages are as afraid to try to come here as they are to go to the Circle." Powell looked sympathetic, but didn't try to soften the blow at all. He was direct and earnest.

"Oh, Maker! She's insane!" Simon cried.

"No. She just wants Dragons dead. The main instigator of all of this is Knight-Commander Shefflour. She tells him what she wants and expects, and he makes it happen. She turns a blind eye to his actions because she is convinced that sometimes the 'greater good' must be served in any way necessary." Powell rested his forehead in his hand, leaning over the table.

"They are using Theodore as a pawn. He's easily led, although arrogant. They want to put him on the throne, and he has agreed to give them free rein to deal with 'The Dragon Problem' in whatever way they see fit if they manage it. So they have misled the Legions into believing that King Karlus selected Theodore and Darin is holding him hostage."

Alistair paced. "What a convoluted, devious plan. And more of this disgusting business of taking families hostage."

Simon drummed the table for a moment with his fingers. "Where are the Revered Mother and the Knight-Commander? Do you happen to know?"

Every eye in the room turned towards him.

"What do you have in mind, Simon?" Alistair stopped pacing to stare at the younger man—who, oddly, now looked older than him.

"Well. They seem to have a penchant for kidnapping. What they are doing is the highest of treason. We have what, four adult dragons and twenty-four viable, flight-worthy drakes now?"

"They're at the circle, where they are scrying on the war and issuing commands," Powell told them.

"Perfect," Simon said. "We have enough dragons and Riders to easily take the tower, even if it's protected by some Templars and blood mages. They've spread themselves out here to siege us, and left themselves vulnerable. You would think that people so infatuated with kidnapping would prepare for the eventuality."

"We can't be sure they haven't," Alistair pointed out.

"Actually," Powell said with a certain smugness, "arrogance is Shefflour's second worst personality flaw. The first is that he thinks he is invincible."

"There is to be a bonding done today. After it, we will go and get them," Velistara told the room at large. "Not a single word about this to anyone. Not even loved and trusted persons. This room and this room alone knows our plans. No one else will know until we reach the Tower." She turned to look at Powell. "You will need to come with us, as none of us know the Tower well."

"I cannot, My Lady." He held up trembling hands. "I am in Lyrium withdrawal. I will be quite delirious by this evening."

"We have Lyrium." She started towards the door.

"No." He crossed his arms, jutting his chin out. "I won't take it anymore. I'd rather die."

She frowned. "You will without it, you know."

"Yes. I mean it. I would rather die than remain a slave to it. I hate everything it stands for, and I always have."

"Can you take it for one more day, please? We truly need you on this." Her voice was sympathetic, but pleading.

A look of sheer revulsion and agony crossed his face, and she relented.

"Never mind. We will make our own way."

The others nodded and agreement spread across the room. It was clear to one and all that asking him to take it even one more time was asking too much.

They all filed out of the room and began to spread the word that people should head to the central square of Margarite. There were drakes that needed bond-mates…

The square filled swiftly, despite the siege they were under. And even with soldiers moved back up to camp on the field already in preparation, there was an air of celebration and joy.

The drakelings were brought out, under heavy guard. As soon as they saw the crowd, they began peeping and chirping with excitement. There was clapping and cheering as the little creatures rushed forward, forcing their erstwhile protectors into a trot to keep up.

The drakelings were quick to sort out their respective Riders, and perhaps because each was accompanied by a protector, no one attempted to stop or force any of them. In less than a minute, five had chosen bond mates.

The others began to weave through the crowd, and soon nearly all had found theirs as well.

One, however, waddled around, peeping and cheeping and crying. Then, as Powell came from the Thaig, deep in conversation with one of the Guardians, the final drake chirped happily and toddled towards him.

He looked down as it came close and pulled his sword out. It cheeped and cowered and he stopped to stare blankly at it. "What?" he asked in confusion as the Squaminish warrior assigned to that drakeling also drew his sword and prepared to fight to protect the small creature.

He was immediately surrounded, and Simon rushed to interfere. "Powell, please. Put down your sword. No one's going to hurt you. Just let it past, it's not going to harm anyone." His assumption was that someone on the side of the Thaig was the intended bond, and he feared Powell might be delusional enough to harm the drakeling.

Powell reluctantly dropped the sword, holding his hands out and glaring around him with open hate and fear. "What are you going to do—"

The drakeling lunged at him, and he reached down to fend it off. The drake bit him and blood flowed. The bond was made instantly, and Powell's entire demeanor altered.

He dropped to one knee and the drakeling climbed up him to curl around his shoulders.

Powell immediately began to cry. "Please get Alistair and Velistara," he told Simon with a sob. "I lied to you."


	60. Subterfuge

**Part 60: Subterfuge**

Simon moved quickly to get the Templar isolated. "Lied about what?"

"They won't be at the tower. I was supposed to get you and the drakes away from here so it could be more easily taken. I fabricated that they were there. They'll be here, on the field, and when the drakes and dragons are gone, I was to signal them so they could attack."

His shoulders fell. "I'm sorry, I…"

Simon crossed his arms. "Who are they holding against you?"

He seemed to shrink even deeper into himself. "A mage. I never acted on how I felt. That doesn't make what they will do to her any less of a threat." A tear trickled down his cheek and the drakeling cooed and rubbed his face against Powell's cheek. "He thinks you can help me, and that if I tell you the truth, it will all work itself out."

Alistair's voice interrupted them, "How do we know this isn't Lyrium withdrawal talking?"

Powell shook his head. "You can't know for sure. But I don't feel it anymore." He lifted his hand and it was steady.

"Well, we know the bond is capable of magic, I wonder if his mental presence is enough to substitute for the magical influence of the Lyrium." Simon rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he said it.

"The possibilities of that—well. We'll have to think on that later. That's huge," Alistair agreed.

"So is it true that Fate is back?" Alistair changed the subject.

"Yes, it would seem so. Shirra has re-bonded, seems lucid again, and the drakeling altered to a pale blue, almost the color of a moonstone, instead of white."

"That's fantastic. Poor Shirra, I was worried about her." Alistair looked at Powell. "Let's meet at Senistraz' chamber and talk more. I didn't hear all of the conversation, but I fear I heard enough."

They met and discussed at length before finally coming up with a plan. Powell knew little more than what he'd been told, including not being certain of the location of the Knight-Commander or the Revered Mother.

"They will be near the blood mages," he told them. "But I can't help beyond that."

"Why were you going to send us to the tower?" Alistair wanted to know.

"I was to send you away," came the response. "It didn't matter where to. While you were gone, they intended to wipe out the two Fortresses and decimate the Thaig. They hoped that by the time you'd gone and returned, they would only have to fight you. I think they had plans to watch you and delay you, but I don't know how."

"Weather magic," Senistraz replied. "They'll watch the Dragons with scrying and use weather magic to slow them."

"So I think it's fair to assume that blood magic is how they're controlling the Darkspawn, as well," Alistair put in. "We would notice the scrying, though, wouldn't we?"

"Only if you expect it," Senistraz told him. "It is not hard to confuse scrying magic, though. An amulet will work. Senistraz can make enough for all."

"Can you make them activated?" Alistair looked pensive and thoughtful.

"Yes."

"Senistraz, Velistara, and I will need riders. I will carry Powell. Velistara will carry—"

Darin interrupted Alistair, "Me."

Alistair immediately shook his head. "You have to live, Darin. You are all that stands between Theodore and the throne."

"I will not sit idly by—"

"You must lead the fighting here," Simon told him. "Salanzin will help you, but it will be intense and heavy. There is another of those monsters, too, we thing. The tainted drake-beast. You will hardly be either idle, or unnecessary."

Obviously reluctant, Darin agreed. "Very well. But I wish it on record that I don't like this at all."

They discussed further, and then their plan was set into motion. They waited for night, and then set off, as if trying to sneak away in the night. They flew high, leaving behind only five mature drakes. Mayah sat astride Velistara, and Shirra rode Senistraz; she being fully recovered from her Dragonless daze.

They labored up into the sky, and felt the scrying immediately after Salanzin gave the signal Powell had been meant to give. They flew very slowly, forcing their enemy to use much power to keep it going. When they had gone far enough, the weather turned very nasty, very quickly.

At Alistair's mental command, the drakes one by one pretended to tumble from the sky, their rider activating the amulets before they reached the ground. There, they landed and ran back the other direction.

Soon, the entire group was free from scrying as they pretended to be knocked from the skies by the winds. They could only hope that the watchers assumed death had broken the scrying, rather than magic.

When they emerged from the inclement weather, they leaped into the sky and winged back towards the field, eyes searching for the tell-tale brightness of powerful spellwork.


	61. The Price of Victory

**Part 61: The Price of Victory**

Alistair saw them first. There were a large number of mages locked into the spell, and he grinned as he dropped towards them. The plan was simple. They would surround them and Velistara would freeze them. Once the two leaders were in custody, there was little doubt that the blood mages would be happy to cease and desist.

But as they began to descent, well before they were anywhere near the group, he began to feel a strange sensation come over him. Familiar, but… uncontrolled, wild. He smelled something sweet on the air, something enticing and arousing. He felt a familiar sense of urgency overcoming him, and he began to follow that sweet, delicate scent. It was so beautiful, so inviting. It reminded him of warmth, of sunshine, of laughter. He banked to follow it, forgetting he even had a rider.

"Alistair?" Velistara's voice in his mind was sharp, curious.

"Hmmm?"

"Alistair!"

"What?"

"What's going on with you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

He looked over at her, and she tilted to look under his belly. He swung his head and saw…"Oh dear. Oh, I didn't… that wasn't on purpose." It was a little hard for a one-ton-plus dragon to hide his aroused state.

"Is this really an appropriate time for such thoughts? And where are you going?"

"Don't you smell that?" he asked her.

"I…yes. I can." She changed her mental direction. "Senistraz, are you in breeding season?"

"Not yet," Senistraz replied. "Why does the Mother ask?"

"Do you smell that on the air? Alistair, where are you going?"

"Hmmm?" Alistair responded, distracted the intensifying scent.

"Yes," Senistraz responded to Velistara. "The male drakes appear to be drawn to it, as well."

The male drakes were breaking away from the formation, and following after Pip and Alistair.

"Senistraz will search for Shefflour and Fairalin. The Mother will see if she can get the males back on track?" Senistraz banked downwards as Velistara agreed and changed course to follow the men. The female drakes followed Senistraz.

"Pip?" Simon asked again. Pip continued to ignore him, pushing forward. "Alistair?" Simon tried.

He found both minds filled with chaos and overwhelming lust. When he tried Senistraz, she explained briefly the problem and the plan she and Velistara had chosen.

A sense of dawning horror began to build in Simon. He was aboard a dragon crazed by lust, with no immobilization spell, and a good chance of infighting. The dragons and the drakes were not responding to their riders at all. If a fight broke out as it nearly had during Senistraz' flight, it would be deadly for Rider and drake/dragon alike.

Then he saw what they were headed for through Pip's eyes, and he felt panic and terror seize him. The small dragon ahead of them was the typical size of a wild high dragon. It was also an Archdemon.

"Alistair! Pip!" he cried out mentally, and aloud, in abject panic.

Worse yet, it was an Archdemon who was either in heat; or somehow using pheromones to control the male drakes and dragons in the area. They were all reduced to mindless savages pursuing a female.

Velistara was coming up from behind, pushing hard towards them. But the males were in hot pursuit, and they were not only not slowing, they were speeding up significantly. The female ahead of them roared tauntingly, and Simon felt Pip's muscles bearing down.

Pip was made for speed and maneuverability. And he was big, and strong. His flame was the deadliest among the dragons, because not only did his burn, but the acid would cling and continue to do much more damage.

And everything that made Pip sentient and intelligent was gone, replaced entirely by mindless, slavering lust.

Senistraz and the female drakes landed in a circle around the mages, the Knight-Commander, and the Revered Mother in as fast a stoop as they could safely manage.

One Mage made the error of casting a firebolt at a drake, and was incinerated in a single breath from the one he attacked.

The Revered Mother looked at Senistraz with undisguised loathing. "You are an abomination," she snarled.

Senistraz immediately realized something about the people inside the ring of drakes. They were all on edge. She realized also that the small group of soldier who were supposed to be protecting them were standing there, swaying back and forth… like they were in thrall.

Then she understood why and how. The Knight-Commander stood rigid, his eyes distant and his mind incoherent and chaotic. He was projecting a strong mental field… an extremely rare natural telepath.

The mages were less effected, but they were beginning to feel it now that they were out of their trance. The Riders were beginning to feel it, and Senistraz immediately clamped down on Mayah's mind, protecting it. She quickly showed the drakes how to do the same, and watches as tensions in the Riders eased.

She then reached out and seized control of the Revered Mother's name in the same way. The woman gasped and grabbed her head. "What?" she asked, confusion written over her face.

"For someone who hates Dragons, you don't seem to mind that Shefflour is bonded to one," Mayah said aloud, recognizing what was happening easily.

"We'll kill her when we're done, just as we'll kill you," the woman snarled.

"He'll never be able to kill her. You're being used. Did you really think that you would just use a Dragon and then discard her like garbage?"

"He controls her," the Revered Mother replied.

"Really?" Mayah's voice was dry and ironic. "Like he's doing now?"

"This has never happened before," the woman admitted.

"She's in heat. She is a mindless animal like any other right now, and her Rider is a powerful projective telepath. Take a look around you. This is what you can expect every time she goes into heat. But you think you can control her?" Mayah shook her head.

Senistraz became aware of the sounds of battle and chaos beyond the ring of drakes. Narrowing her vision, she lifted her head. Fear filled her so strongly that she felt the distant, alarmed sound of her bond-mate's reaction.

The previously controlled Darkspawn had turned on their erstwhile allies and were killing everything in sight—even each other. Pure pandemonium had broken out on the field.

She mentally screamed for Velistara and Pip. Pip's mind was a wall of lustful, unthinking clamor. Velistara broke off the chase, informing Senistraz of the horrible truth. The dragon was no longer a demon, but was tainted.

Making an instant decision, Senistraz blew a powerful breath across the people in the circle. Lifting into the sky, she froze everything in the near vicinity, barely missing the drakes as they scrambled to avoid her, on her command.

Then she dropped of Mayah and took off after the Archdemon while Velistara made her way back. She would destroy Darkspawn while Senistraz tried to deal with the Archdemon that was leading the males a merry chase.

Simon, for his part, was clinging desperately to Pip's back as his dragon fought for altitude. He began to fight for breath in the thin air since the spell Pip would usually have used to protect him was missing. He felt panic and desperation coming over him as he began to sense the encroaching darkness at the edges of his mind.

He cried out one more time for Pip, before slumping forward.

Distantly, Pip sensed someone. Someone important. Someone precious. Someone who he love and who needed him and… whose life was slipping away. That awareness began to penetrate the fog covering his mind.

He shook his head, trying to remember what was so important. Who was it that called to him? He began to search, immediately sensing the mind riding him… a mind that was growing dimmer and dimmer.

A sudden thrill of alarm slammed through him. "SIMON!" the thought penetrated and freed him as he realized Simon was dying. Instantly, he surrounded him in the protective spell that gave him breath—and life.

He then immobilized him as well, terrified that in his prone, unconscious state, he would fall. Then, he looked down and decided to stick to his original plan… he would drop down on the racing female Archdemon from above and grapple her.

But there would be no coupling, no vile offspring. He would destroy her, if he died trying. This was what he was born for. He was made, created, hatched to destroy evil. And the female below him was the apotheosis of everything he opposed.

So he dropped like an arrow, protecting Simon with spells and stooping on the fleeing form at speeds that would have killed an unprotected rider.

He was almost there, and she simply banked out from under him. Whether intended or luck, it was devastating for Pip. He had counted on her being there to break his fall, and when she wasn't, he realized that he had miscalculated terribly. The ground was close and his fall wasn't broken by a pliable body.

He snapped his wings out, shrieking as they snapped up and back, wrenched by the sheer force of his fall.

Then an arrowing white form was there, slamming into him. He and Simon tumbled through the air as Velistara was thrown the other way, rolling over and over in the air, slamming hard against the mountain.

Pip struggled and fought, but his wings were too badly strained and torn by his attempt to stop himself, and he had all he could do to try to put up a barrier around Simon as a mountainside rose to meet him with vicious, unyielding impartiality.

Velistara straightened herself out. She had managed to divert the worst of Pip's momentum, but she had paid a terrible penalty for doing so. One of her legs was mangled, and a wing strained. Great patches of her skin dotted the landscape in bloody white patches of scale.

A reverberating 'boom!' hit her ears, and she knew instantly that she had failed to help him regain his wings. Struggling painfully, she hopped over the crest of a rise and saw him.

He lay crumpled and unmoving, and despair filled her. She had turned back through instinct, and although she could tell he lived, she knew that his mind was the blankness of unconsciousness. Despite that, it was laced with terrible pain.

Crying out in her own agony, she spread her wings and leaped into the air. She wailed as her wing shrieked in protest, but turned and labored towards Mayah. A shadow crossed her and Senistraz whipped past, hurtling with tremendous speed towards an inevitable conflict with the Archdemon who had thought to steal her mate.

Velistara had no strength left to warn her of what had happened to Pip. She could only flap towards Mayah in hopes she could return in time to save his life.

Senistraz had no real plan. She could only hope that her cold flame and the drakes could keep control over the Knight-commander and the Revered Mother until Velistara got there to sort it all out.

She saw the streaking bodies ahead of her, and saw two drakes nearly collide. She reached out and felt all of them as a single, united wall of chaos and lustful disarray.

But ahead of them, she could feel the mocking, spiteful mind of the Archdemon.

Senistraz also noticed that the Archdemon had a weak spot. She looked above. She looked behind. She didn't look below her. Senistraz dropped, skimming across the land, barely ducking trees.

The Archdemon turned and swooped, scattering the drakes and Alistair with a mocking shriek. Alistair nearly caught her, coming within mere inches of her tail as she flirted with disaster.

Senistraz turned, glad to be free of a rider. Then she drove straight upwards, coming up behind and then over the Archdemon. Dropping, she grappled the other female dragon, who shrieked with surprise and rage.

Then Senistraz let loose a powerful blast of icy breath right into the monster's face and let go.

Too slow, though. Far too slow… as the Archdemon plummeted, screaming with terror, Senistraz felt her own breath wash over her.

As the muscles of her belly froze, her wings fluttered and stuttered. Senistraz barely managed to snap them into a glide, and then she was falling, her fall slowed only slightly as she was unable to steer herself off course from the mountain peak in the way of her glide.

She cried out to Pip, and met only a wall of unconsciousness and pain. Then the ground was rising up to meet her, and misery gripped her even as the distant screams of her bond-mate filled her mind and broke her heart.


	62. Recovery

**Part 62: Recovery**

Alistair felt his mind return in a painful rush. He also felt Senistraz' terror and resignation in the same instant. Gripping his rider with a spell, he twisted in midair, tucked into the wind, and flew with every ounce of his strength.

Flashing through the air, he slammed into Senistraz hard, grappling her and straining with all his might to lift her. They cleared the mountain peak, though barely. One of her back claws struck stone and shattered with a tinkling sound, but otherwise, she was unhurt as Alistair struggled to lift her.

But they were far from out of danger, as Alistair's wings fouled with hers and he had to let go to correct himself. Then he dove again, and this time, she tucked her wings, so that he could lift her. Alistair labored for altitude, until he caught a thermal. Then he let go of Senistraz, and she snapped her wings out.

Content that her glide was actually lifting her into the air instead of dropping her, he shifted.

"Thank you, Father." Her mental voice was subdued, soft.

"What is it?"

"Pip."

He picked up Pip's unconscious state from her mind. Then he sought for, and found, the source of it. Winging across the land, he saw the crumpled form of his son.

Landing heavily, he released Powell, who leaped down and began to vomit and wretch. Alistair realized that the poor guy might never be willing to fly after a flight like that. Talk about the worst first flight ever.

He switched to human form and knelt beside Pip. He found Simon, also unconscious and carefully pulled him away from Pip, slipping and sliding in the blood pooled around the pair.

Then he reached for Velistara's mind. He was shocked to find her also awash in pain, and immediately made to switch to dragon form. Then Pip's eye opened and looked at him.

Alistair staggered as agony poured through him, and even though he knew it was Pip's and not his own, he fell to his knees. He grasped his head and groaned. Pip apologized and clamped down on his projection.

"Oh Pip," Alistair cried, agonized at the suffering his son was experiencing.

"Pain just has a way of finding you, doesn't it?" he sighed, kneeling beside the prone form of his dragon child.

"Joy finds Pip as well, Father. It makes the pain survivable."

"You may not survive this one, Pip."

Drakes began to land around them. Alistair sent them off to assist in the battle at the Enclave. A moment later, just as Simon was beginning to sit up, Senistraz winged in and landed, albeit a bit painfully.

She switched to human form and immediately ran to Pip, uncaring of the blood that soaked immediately into the hem of her robe.

Then, Velistara was there, landing heavily, stumbling slightly as she dropped onto three legs, holding the mangled one against her body.

"Veli!" Alistair exclaimed.

She groaned and lowered herself, and Mayah scampered off to rush towards Pip.

"Alistair!" Mayah's voice was commanding. "Go immediately and get Blake. Get back here as fast as you can. I can save Pip, but we will need help to repair him."

"I'll send a drake to be certain the Archdemon is dead," Alistair said.

"She's dead," Velistara broke in. "The Darkspawn are scattering and disorganized once more."

Alistair leaped, shifting in midair and winging swiftly towards the Bronze Enclave.

"Pip is not going to make it this time," Pip said sadly.

To everyone's surprise, Mayah laughed. "Stop being so melodramatic. Pain won't kill you, and you haven't anything wrong with you that can't be Healed between Blake and me. You'll fly off of this mountain as whole as you were before. Although Senistraz will never get her toe back since she foolishly shifted while it was missing."

"He isn't dying?" Simon asked anxiously.

"No," Mayah answered, "he just feels like it." Then she shushed them and began to chant.

Several hours later, everyone was healed and they were back at the White Fortress with the Revered Mother and the gibbering, mindless Knight-commander Shefflour in their custody.


	63. Finale

**Part 64: Finale**

"You really thought you could control the Darkspawn through a bonded Dragon?" Alistair sounded beyond incredulous.

"We were controlling them, until you killed her!" the Revered Mother snapped back.

"You were using Darkspawn to commit treason," said a low, level voice from the doorway. "You were taking families hostage and harming them in order to coerce and extort people into treasonous acts." King Karlus slowly entered the room, sitting down shakily, yet regally in a chair.

"Treason is a small thing in the face of upholding the Maker's righteousness!" the zealous Revered Mother shouted at him. "You consort with vile creatures that set themselves up as gods above the Maker! There is no price too high to stop that!"

"First off, we do not set ourselves up as gods at all," Alistair yelled back. "Secondly, it was the Maker himself who Made Velistara and me!"

"Really? How can you be so sure it was the Maker, and not someone, or something, else?" she demanded. "And better yet, how do we know that? We are to take the word of a man who would usurp the power and authority of the Maker?"

"How many times—" Alistair started to protest, then rubbed his forehead in resignation. "Never mind. No one can get through to you, can they."

"Dragons are dangerous. They become vile, tainted things that destroy everything!"

"And that's why you consorted with one so willingly?" King Karlus growled at her. "Consorted with an Archdemon to commit treason and to destroy the fine institutions of the Chantry and the Circle of Magi? People fear and hate them both now, because of your actions!"

"Good! They should fear righteousness and the wrath of the Maker!"

"You will be hung in the square at Denerim the day after we arrive back," Karlus told her. "This will be my final act as King."

"Good, I will die as a martyr! I will be taken to the bosom of the Maker, where I will be honored and revered as I should be!"

"Lady, nobody thinks you're a martyr. Everyone besides you knows that you're nothing more or less than the monster you tried to unleash upon us all." Karlus stood up and slowly left the room.

Fairalin, no longer called Revered Mother, was removed and taken to what passed for a dungeon in the White Fortress—a small bedroom with a bolt on the outside of the door instead of the inside. If it was a bit stark, that was only to the woman's pleasure, the better to claim unrightful persecution.

"One of the drakes has been found. She… she's dead. The Darkspawn got a hold of her, and it would appear that she killed herself rather than succumb to them." There was sorrow in Pip's voice, but a sense of relief as well.

"And the other?" Alistair looked at him sympathetically.

"Still missing," came the answer.

"Anything else?"

"Senistraz rose for a flight yesterday," Simon reported, grinning slyly.

"That's great news, I didn't even notice," Alistair replied, heaving a sigh of relief.

"I think that was something that Archdemon did. I've not seen such a reaction before. Even on Senistraz' first flight, as a mated Dragon, you didn't even notice. And Pip has never noticed Velistara rising."

"The families have been found. Powell's mage was with them, and according to the Rider who helped find them, will be here in a week or two. She'll be joining the Pearl Order, and hopefully that particular situation can follow its natural course."

"Have replacements been found for Fairalin and Shefflour?" Alistair asked Darin.

"Yes," he replied, shifting in his seat. "And they seem to be much more friendly towards the Crown. However, convincing them not to hunt down mages, or to allow them to join the Orders without argument is going to take a lot longer—if it ever happens."

Alistair sighed heavily. "I guess it can't all be good news."

"Multiple numbers of Riders were chosen from the Squaminish," Simon pointed out. "They'll be staying on at the Bronze Enclave. Home building has already begun in earnest, in hopes to make it before the arrival of Winter."

"And your children?"

"Duncan and Wynne," Simon said. "From the Gray Warden legends of the last blight. I might have named him Alistair, but that could get confusing."

Alistair smiled, but there was suspicious brightness in his eyes. "You honor them both, as well as your children," he told his friend. "You're like a son to me, and I'm proud of you."

Simon's eyes were also bright as he said, "Thank you, My Lord."

"Ah, well," Alistair said. "That's the way to ruin the moment."

There were chuckles, but the conversation moved on away from the subject.


	64. Epilogue

_Oops! I forgot chapter 64... so if you've already read this, pop back a chapter please!_

* * *

**Epilogue**

Samarille stumbled again. He was exhausted and the going was difficult. Yet he couldn't deny the call. It was growing stronger, but still moving. He was hoping that he could catch up, but hope was waning.

His diet of scavenged corpses and scrawny nugs was keeping him alive, but he was thin and it had been weeks already. More and more, he was haunted by primitive thoughts, and a growing sense of urgency.

If he didn't find his bond-mate soon, he would forget who he was.

So Samarille stumbled onwards, delirious with hunger and driven by an instinct that he was beginning to forget but that wouldn't stop pushing him.

He slogged along as it began to rain and then stopped to gnaw chunks of meat off of the corpse of a wolf who had died in a trap. His hunger barely sated, he moved on, rain sluicing off of him in cool sheets.

The next day was hot, and he stumbled often. He became so parched that he could barely walk anymore. Finally, he saw shade in the form of a gorse bush, and trudged over to it, only to fall asleep the moment he flopped in the shade.

He awoke to find himself confused, and a deep sadness dragging at him. Something was missing. Something was unfinished. Something was calling him. But he couldn't remember. Where was he? Where was he going?

Then, as if by magic, he found himself staring into the terrified eyes of the person he had walked for weeks to find. They stared at each other in surprise, and before he knew what he was doing, Samarille's head darted out and he nipped Aron on the hand.

The young assassin jerked backwards, nursing the wounded hand.

"Aron?" He looked around, drawing his dagger. No one here knew his real name. He'd been on the run ever since he had 'botched' the last job by letting the little girl live.

Crows didn't make mistakes like that, and live to tell about it…

"Aron?"

He looked down. Well, at least he'd found some food.

"Food? Food, I am not! How would you like me to eat you?" said the indignant voice.

Aron shook his head. He'd found food… and lost his mind.

Out loud, he said, "Are you really talking to me?"

"Of course talking to you, I am."

So he thought back, "Nod your head then."

"What am I, a dog? I'm a dragon, parlor tricks, I do not do."

"You're a dragon? I thought dragons were… you know, fifty feet long and two or three tons."

"Well, start out that way, we do not, obviously."

"I don't have time for this."

"You did the right thing. If you had killed her, chosen someone else, I would have."

"I don't think so. I'm not much longer for this world. When they catch me—and they will—I'm dead, and so is she."

"So with me, you will both come. They won't be able to get to you where we're going."

"And where are we going?"

"To the Bronze Enclave. Worried about me, my mother and father are sure to be. The girl, you will bring."

"And what happens when they find out I'm an assassin? I kill people, you know."

"My Rider you are. Assassin no longer."

Thus Aron and Samarille headed off towards the Bronze Enclave. They brought with them one Cherille, the only surviving Cousland besides her uncle, the newly crowned King.

Far away in his castle, Theodore raged impotently at the Crow assassin who had brought him the bad news.

"We will find them, Arl Theodore, have no fear," the assassin said, then bowed and turned towards the door. "And when we do, both of their lives are forfeit."


End file.
